As the light from the window grows dimmer and dimmer, I start thinking that when night spreads across the room and surrounds me, it will be time for my fear to unfold. Then, I will lie still with my eyes shut until darkness will turn to dim and to soft light and then to dawn. And all the while, thoughts will be circling my mind. I will try to breathe deeply and focus on my body breathing. I will chase away my thoughts, but they will be faster than me, and will just keep circling and circling.
And I’m afraid of being afraid. I envision myself awake in my bed, motionless, with my eyes shut, both waiting for dawn and wanting to sleep. I try to answer the million-dollar question, why am I afraid? And I can’t.
At the beginning of my convalescence, as soon as the sun started setting, I’d get afraid. But I could guess the reason for my fear; I could link the words “darkness” and “death.” Over time, my fear vanished. So, I was sure that I had left my non-memories behind, and fear would soon be vanquished.
Yet, it’s alive and kicking, and even if death is still present in a variety of ways, I can’t find its link with darkness. Or is it that the non-memories are behind, but my brain’s prolonged healing fills me with a sense of helplessness? This sense of helplessness makes me fear the unpredictable future before me: the unknown detour that COVID, the election, and the Dow Jones will take; the fate of my loved ones; and the shape of climate change. Is that the reason why I’m not afraid of death, but of life?
And I’m afraid of being afraid. I envision myself awake in my bed, motionless, with my eyes shut, both waiting for dawn and wanting to sleep. I try to answer the million-dollar question, why am I afraid? And I can’t.
At the beginning of my convalescence, as soon as the sun started setting, I’d get afraid. But I could guess the reason for my fear; I could link the words “darkness” and “death.” Over time, my fear vanished. So, I was sure that I had left my non-memories behind, and fear would soon be vanquished.
Yet, it’s alive and kicking, and even if death is still present in a variety of ways, I can’t find its link with darkness. Or is it that the non-memories are behind, but my brain’s prolonged healing fills me with a sense of helplessness? This sense of helplessness makes me fear the unpredictable future before me: the unknown detour that COVID, the election, and the Dow Jones will take; the fate of my loved ones; and the shape of climate change. Is that the reason why I’m not afraid of death, but of life?
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