I am afraid. Everyday, I am afraid.
My panic attacks I know stem from this fear, and they buildup until my body
can’t withstand the pressure. So I find myself like I have before, gasping for
air when maybe just maybe if I dealt with what was pressing upon my chest… no
amount of rubbing the spot where it hurts makes it go away.
Now I’ve
gone one step further, and allowed the fears of someone I love drive my fear.
By not pushing to be better, by being unwilling to ask the hard questions- I’m
living in the gray.
We are both
so afraid of making a mistake- we know we have something akin to magic in our
hands, and we are terrified. What could it all mean? How far could this go?
Will it end? So we wade through the gray together, holding hands, but not
really touching. Speaking, but not really hearing.
They are
afraid to reach their potential, because of what they could lose. I’m afraid to
push them to do it, because of what I might lose. At first it wasn’t this way-
we did bring out the best in one another. Then the same thoughts tail-spun us
again and again, never giving answers. The waters were muddied, and we ignored
it, carried on like we didn’t feel it weighing on the both of us.
Now we are
here. A place where we can’t ignore the pull. A place where we can’t un-feel
what we feel, can’t unravel what we’ve gained. The terror rises up and we can’t
look to one another for comfort. It’s been all of our own making. Moves and
countermoves.
So now we
step out of the gray. I’ve never been so afraid of black and white. We’re on a
path we can’t come back from, to a place we’ve both feared. We’re terrified of
what might result- we could lose one another in our lives.
Or…or… we could be the magic we’ve
seen and felt. We could be the change, the progress, the fear mixed to make the
drive. We could be the unstoppable force we’ve only read stories about- a
pairing no one doubts, and everyone sees. Our weaknesses are the others
strengths. The compliment is there in our moves, in our voices, in just being.
The gray would be something we
looked back at in wonder. How were we ever there? How did we allow the thickets
made by our fears snag us in that way? Why didn’t we control the controllable?
And the gray would become something else entirely. The gray would be a safe
place between, instead of a chasm. Overleap with out fear of falling.
Because we could catch one another,
if we chose. In the black, the white, or the gray.
“It’s not the load that breaks you
down, it’s the way you carry it. “
-Lena Horne
