I've been thinking tonight, since the meeting that I went to, about how much of my life I lose to fear. A lot probably. Mostly it is the fear of not having a future, but it used to be the fear of a lot of other things. I know from doing 4th step AA inventories that most of my decisions, and the things I've done to other people and myself, were based largely, if not entirely, on fear. It touches every aspect of our lives, as the Big Book says. It is the fear of everything and nothing, or losing what you have and not getting what you want. And I know from the 9th step promises, that those fears go away eventually. I guess when I really think about it - I am not driven by fear like I used to be, I don't feel afraid of the same things.
I love this Wednesday meeting that I go to. There is just something about this meeting that is unlike other meetings. I wouldn't want to give it up. It reminds me how much AA is really about life, and how little it has to do with alcohol, because remember - alcohol is but a symptom of the problem. Anyway, we were talking about fear and about faith. The guy who was giving the lead was talking about the fear of missing out - the fear of missing something. That undefined something. I thought, that's it - that's what it is. The fear of missing that thing that I can't define. I am afraid of missing out on happiness.
I feel free of fear in a lot of ways, yet at the same time, there is this fear that is underlying, constant, unyielding, suffocating, and debilitating. It isn't the kind of fear that motivates you - it paralyzes you. It knocks you over when you become aware of it, it takes your breath away, it is painful, and lonely and indescribable really. It is the fear that I will get cancer again and die. That it will all be over before I even have a chance at happiness. People don't understand what this is like - to live with this hanging over you, and under you and saturating everything around you.
I feel a desperate sense of urgency most of the time. An urgency to get the things I want and to work out this life of mine into this perfect thing that I want it to be, so that I can achieve happiness, before it's too late. I worry about the time that I've already lost. With the advent of the anniversary of my survival - I have a hard time thinking of it positively, instead, I have been thinking of it in terms of one more year less that I get to be here. I think about the numbers - the five year survival rate, and I worry that I only have 4 years left. I know my odds of survival are high - higher than the average numbers - but it doesn't help. Nothing helps. The only thing that helps, even a tiny little bit, is to stay present in the moment - not the day, but the moment - literally the moment, right now, this second.
What if I really only do have 4 years left? Seriously. It is terrifying beyond words. I mean what do you do in the face of fear like that? You live I guess. But how? I don't know how.
2 comments:
The craptastic truth is that we all live in a constant state of uncertainty. Nobody knows how many days, minutes, hours we are going to get, and cancer is in some ways just more data. Sure, your cancer could come back, but you could also get lethal toenail fungus or step in front of a bus by accident, right?
Watching my dad go through fast forward cancer this year has taught me that. One minute he was fine - the next he was too winded to walk to the mailbox and the next week he was in multiple organ failure and then lo, a month later he was home doing yardwork. Three months ago his doctor gave him two weeks to live. Yesterday he was, once again, doing yardwork.
My point is that people live in this kind of fear 24 hours or day, seven days a week - and they are right to be afraid. I might die today. It's not likely, but it could happen. On the other hand, the people we really envy live in complete denial of this reality, and they are right to live in denial. Denial permits peace - who could be present and peaceful while living in constant vigilance for what may simply never happen?
You said, "what do you do in the face of a fear like that?" My dad, who has been terminal for all these long months, answers the question this way: wake up every day, thank God you are still around, and then make the absolutely most of the day you are given, neither to waste it on anxiety or on idleness.
I try to live like that. I fail, but I try.
Fear has always been in my life. Kind of funny since so many, might consider me fearless. It's just not so. I work hard to find work-arounds. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't.
While I won't pretend to understand "It is the fear that I will get cancer again and die. That it will all be over before I even have a chance at happiness. People don't understand what this is like - to live with this hanging over you, and under you and saturating everything around you." I do understand the fear of just missing a heart transplant. The fear that I live with. My prognosis is "let's see how long this device prolongs you for." Prolong? That's what my life is...Prolong? It's hard. In a way..why do I work so hard to come back, when I can't really? But I want to pretend. I want to make the time I'm here to be the best it possibly can be. I want to find the good in all of this. There just must be some. There has been some. I'm kind of in a down cycle myself. Too much limbo. Too much fear. I must work on that.
Perhaps the hardest part is that I feel so alone IRL.
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