Bridges, heights, snakes, large dogs, and pitch black darkness all give me pause. So much so it’s hard for me to write that in this post. I didn’t even want to proofread that. Those are the physical things.
What makes me most afraid are the visceral things. Because they can last for more than a moment. Unhappiness for The Deuce, heartbreak of any kind for him, not giving him all the tools he needs to be successful in life. I see and feel such joy for that child. Even when I am yelling at him for not flushing the toilet. It is my job to raise him. Not his teachers, principals, and school staff. Me. His mother. I am supposed to prepare him for the world. He looks at me like I can save him from all that is ugly out there. And I want to do that for him.
Disappointing my parents is another thing I’m afraid of. Doesn’t matter how old I am. I’ll always want them to approve of what I’m doing and how I’m living my life. I have no doubt that they love me unconditionally and are proud of me. There were things that I wanted growing up, but I never lacked the things I needed. They made sure of that. I didn’t know it then, but I do now. Gratitude is my attitude.