Fear.

My mum recently walked into her bathroom to find a frog sitting there, waiting, as if he indeed was the Godfather himself. My mum, well let's just say I heard a screeching noise (not at all humane), with something between a whimper and a laugh escaping from her lips. She ran around in circles, calling for my brother (he's the Ghostbuster of insects and amphibians in our family). But that gets me onto this weeks topic.

Fear.

Fear defines us in uncertain ways. It makes us neurotic, and it makes us interesting. As a neurotic person, I have countless fears that trail behind me as I walk my way through life. I  take this down to being a perfectionist, but perhaps I'm just a very wimpy person. My fears are long, and ever expanding, and here are just a few:

Clowns, deep water, heights, roller coasters, horror movies, crowds, loud noises, death or death of a loved one, failing at school, fire, cancer, the dark, 2012, something slimy and amphibious swimming in the toilet bowl, evil ghosts, the unknown.

   It comes down to this. There are different sorts of fears. There are fears that enchant you, like fire. The way the flames dance and twirl as if they were in a never-ending ball is glorious, yet the fact that, that same dancing can become so deadly in a matter of seconds, mystifies me.
   The second sort of fear is a fear that you love, yet hate. Like the dark. While I hate the dark, there's always a magical quality in the air, like anything is possible. But it's also vicious, and scary, and that anything that's possible could be a bad thing.
   The third sort of fear, is something that's completely justifiable. In my case, cancer. My family has had the unfortunate chance that they have acquired quite a few bad genes in their time. My grandfather died from bowel cancer, my grandmother had breast cancer, my aunty had early stages of breast cancer, my mum had a melanoma. We aren't the most healthy lot out there. It terrifies me that there's a good chance that in my lifetime, I may get some sort of cancer.
   The fourth sort of fear is something that's completely unjustifiable. Like clowns. They're creepy, ok? It's like they're desperately trying to mask the sadness behind their make-up. And deep water too. I live in Australia. Sharks and crocodiles roam the currents here.
    The fifth, and final sort of fear is the irrational fear. 2012, mainly. Even though it won't happen, sometimes when you just sit down and think, a nagging sensation of doubt bubbles up from your gut, and you start thinking what if?

And that's what fears should do. They should make you think what if? What if the dark became real and was magic, but was also a serial killer? What if clowns really were evil, and used their masks as a source of soul sucking, or happiness sucking? What if?

And I guess that's it. Despite the fact that we let our fears define us, once we get over them, nothing has really changed. You might expect to feel some sort of bubble burst, a thrill, a giant dose of fresh air entering your lungs. Yet, it isn't the case. Why is that? It may be because we change so subtly that not even ourselves - the person who knows us best, notices it. Or, it could be because we've adapted to live and thrive with our fears. And indeed, now that you're over it, you may just feel a little empty.

There's generally always a logical reasoning behind a fear, yet it shouldn't mean we should get rid of it. Fears, like a personality, changes, so perhaps you should enjoy that fear you have now, as it may be completely different in five years. Mind you, there isn't a particular way for one to enjoy a fear. Perhaps just appreciate it. Understand what it says about you. Become a friend to it.

Next week lovelies,
Jocie


BOOK CURRENTLY READING: The Daughter of Smoke and Bones by Laini Taylor
WORDS: 0 - school has overtaken my life
QUOTE: "Fear had its uses, but cowardice has none" - Mohandas Ghandi

something was going to go here, but I can't remember what.