Fears and loves

This is a bit of a weird post; weird in the sense that it doesn’t follow my normal structure and doesn’t really relate to my usual topics so seems a bit haphazard. Hopefully you’ll still get some kind of pleasure from it.

I recently started listening to the Mental Illness Happy Hour, a podcast I referred to in my previous post, and discovered a section towards the end that really got me thinking. The host invites the guest, as well as others, to admit their fears and loves. He starts by reading out all the things people fear, some comedic and others tragic, and then follows it by reading out all the wonderful things people love. For example, one of the fears that really resonated with me was, “I’m afraid my elbow skin will become so wrinkly that it will resemble an old man’s scrotum.” I wholeheartedly sympathise with the woman who said this, and it’s a fear that becomes more real with each passing day.

Anyway, I then started thinking… what am I afraid of? Spiders aside, what am I really afraid of. And what do I really love in this life? I could have gone on for hours and in fact I did, so I’ve limited myself to create a top five of each. I’ve tried to be as honest as I can be.

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I’m afraid…

  • I’m afraid I’m not intelligent enough to keep my boyfriend happy into old age
  • I’m afraid I will soon reach an age where I have lost the ability to fight fibromyalgia
  • I’m afraid I will always compare my life to the lives of others
  • I’m afraid I will die horifically, and before my parents die
  • I’m afraid my decision to never have children will haunt me in my old age when I’m lonely and alone.

e7804098f10789659e75d52d0f935268I love…

  • I love  it when I see old people holding hands
  • I love it when my cat rests her body carefully along the windowsill with one leg hanging awkwardly over the radiator, just so she can feel hot air on her bum
  • I love it when I get along with my sister
  • I love it when I look at my boyfriend and feel complete trust
  • I love it when I see a bad photo of someone and they still look truly beautiful.

I don’t invite comments very often, though that’s not to say they’re not welcome, but if you would like to share your fears and loves please do. I found it quite therapeutic and then, true to form, quite frustrating when I had to limit it to just five of each. Good luck. 

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