Clean Room

The room is completely well lit.  You can see every corner and there are no funny shadows to explore.  There’s even a comfortable couch for me to sit down on.  From every perspective you can find, this room is just as comfortable as any place you could imagine.  There was nothing to fear before I walked in the room, but now it is the worst of Poe’s stories, Stephen King requested to be let out when he saw the images in my mind.

It was never about the fear someone could bring forth, it has always been about the fears I bring along with me.  The fears that I have unfortunately had some experience living.  Almost all fear is wrapped up in not being ready or able to handle loss.  A friendship, some job opportunity that you worked so hard for, or in my case my daughter.  When sitting in a room waiting for some horror to happen, I can just delve back into my own history for my paralyzing fear brought real.

Last year when I was having a medical emergency of my own, one that required being taken to the hospital in the fun flashing van while in a reclining position; i learned that when you can’t express yourself the mental games begin.  Sitting in a room, by myself since they couldn’t let my parents anywhere near me, the thoughts and smells of everyone enveloped me.  I was only 9 months removed from my trauma and every visit to the doctor was like having nails hammered into my eyes.

I know from talking to people, this is not some unique fear.  Any person with a child, dog, person they care about is worried at some point that today might be the last time they see them.  The last time they hear their voice.  The fear of loss is powerful.  It can lead to all sorts of other emotions taking over.  And some of those aren’t going to be happy, fun feelings.

My biggest fear is loss.  That person being there and then just disappearing.  I still carry the scars of friends who have died, and having someone use that knowledge to torture me was cruel.  It came from a place I did expect.  It led to more loss and absolute paranoia about the next person to offer their hand disappearing.  That a fear that I just can’t overcome.

I was going to post a picture of me standing outside holding out a little girl dressed like a princess for Halloween.  And then ask you to place your hand over the little girl and consider the same picture.  The problem with that was that i was still grinning from ear to ear, loses some of the intended message.  But do it with any picture you have of someone you love, you’ll get my point quicker than expected.

So no need to worry about some Boogieman in the corner, I bring those fear with me everywhere.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “1984.”


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