The best days are the days I sit down with splotchy ugly cry face and I finish with a smile. They are the mornings I look under my bed and shout “Get the fuck out, Monsters.” At the very least they are the mornings I pretend that writing about them, giving a name to the fears that keep me up at night will grant me a good night’s sleep.
I am more afraid than I care to admit. And far more afraid than I let on, typically.
These are a few things I am afraid of.
Diamonds on the inside… – I used to be afraid of letting the inside show.
I feel stupid… and contagious. I am always afraid to ask for help.
hȯr-ˈmō-nəl: of, relating to, or effected by hormones – Sometimes I am afraid of being afraid.
Ride on Red Hot Mama – I was afraid that growing up and moving on would mean I would have to leave the good parts of my past behind, too.
Fear can hold you prisoner, hope can set you free. More than anything else I was afraid I would not be able to get pregnant. I was afraid my second chance would not include a baby.
One Bad Mamajama – I fear that being a mother makes you less of a sexual creature. But intellectually I know that it isn’t so.
Excitement on the side 