October 28, 2019

I'm afraid of so many things.

Sometimes it's debilitating. Sometimes it's gentle but ever-present, nudging me to retreat.

I'm afraid of wearing bathing suits,

afraid of calling a waiter over wrong,

afraid of reading texts too soon or too slow,

afraid of ordering the wrong thing at restaurants,

afraid of making a mistake at work,

afraid of being alone,

afraid of not being alone,

afraid of living,

afraid of death.

Some days a single step feels like wading through mud.

Today might be one of those days.

May 4, 2026

Afraid of dismantling my entire structure to build a new one,

afraid of starting over with a fresh lens,

afraid of saying no,

afraid of saying yes,

afraid of waking up one day and realising I let life pass me by,

afraid of admitting I'm learning secure attachment at 34, with my therapist,

afraid of the sheer scale of the profundity and absurdity of "healing",

afraid of attaching too hard,

afraid of never attaching again.

The list goes on. I'm exhausted.

I just want to live.

When does the excavating end?