There is Way More To Fear Than Fear Itself
All the world’s a stage… of a horror film
I had no idea that I had been paralyzed by fear until that syringe needle hit my deltoid muscle and I felt myself exhale.
The pharmacy staff asked me to hang around for 15 minutes, “Just to be sure.” I tried to sit, but no dice. My feet felt too happy. I skipped around the pharmacy like Snow White in the magical forest, humming, plucking items from the garden shelves and swirling about. I’m sure my eyes were twinkling while small blue animated birds braided my hair.
For 11 months and two weeks, I had been smothered by fear. But I didn’t know that I wasn’t breathing. I convinced myself that everything was going to be okay. The human race was prevailing. Maybe not winning, but enduring. I realized that day in CVS, however, that we all have been frantically treading water, waiting for someone to throw us a float. And it didn’t look like any were coming our way.
I started thinking about fear about a year ago, when Daryl, a very dear lifelong friend said to me, “You were always the bravest person I know.”
Brave? Me, the biggest chicken in the coop? I’m not so sure about that, I told her. Where would she get such an idea?
