We are not born afraid. Very young children are fearless. They don’t know there is bad in the world. It is through experience that we gain fear. It is through pain that we become afraid. Physical, mental, emotional, our own or someone we love. I wasn’t afraid of needles, snakes or sparks until I had a bad experience. Loud noises didn’t bother me until they meant pain and fear. A lot of things in the kink world, I didn’t know to be afraid of until they happened. It is that memory of the pain, of the fear, of the trauma, that triggers now. Stronger than the reality. A stun gun pressed tight against my thigh causes far less reaction than the threat and crackling of it six inches away. The memory of the pain causes fear.
Today, I remember pain. A terrible pain, full of confusion and disbelief. And I am sad and crying. But I am also afraid. Afraid of losing someone else. Afraid of reliving that pain. Afraid of being ripped wide open and bare with nothing to hold on to. Afraid it will be worse, closer. So many are far apart, I don’t see them anymore. Today I remember, but I have to let go of the fear.
My family is far and wide. Idaho to Maine to the UP of Michigan. My college family is even further. Stretching over the ocean into England and the other way to China. Both groups have a few more local. My brother and his family. A couple college friends are still in town. My chosen kinky family is here for the most part. Here full of love and support (and all the typical family drama). No matter what happens, there are plenty of people who care and who I can turn to, in one way or another. Living in fear denies their contribution to my life. With their support, I can get through anything.
One day at a time.
