PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Fear is fast-fingered thief, black-gloved fingers that flutter up and sieze my heart, like a Faberge egg, plucking it from its core, snatching it away, anywhere, anytime.

I hate Fear. It robs me of my strength, it holds my hope as a hostage, it gives me no path but down. Fear shows me the worst possible outcomes, the terror within me, the sadness that seems to know no end or bounds. I hate Fear.

Fear's cousin, Sadness, sits on top of my stomach and waits to erupt. Sadness bubbles. I am trying to thicken my skin, not be so raw. Do you know how many times a day we are asked, "How are you today?" Do you know how many times that question has made me cry? I'm a terrible liar, but I'm starting to do it. Lie. Say, "Fine." I even smiled at the checker at Wild Oats. I wondered if she could see my sadness. I wondered if I would ever stop lying, that someday I'll say "Fine" and mean it. Fear jumps in and shoulders next to Sadness, telling me no, I never will. I know it's lying, but it's hard to see when your eyes are brimming.

Then there's Grief, stony & cold. She sits and stares with accusing eyes, anytime there's a tinkle of laughter or a glimmer of joy. Grief has no room for laughter or lightness, they are a betrayal. She is icy & sharp, and takes no prisoners.

And then we have Strength. Strength has taken a beating and is wondering, can she last in this long-drawn battle? Can she ass-kick Fear, Sadness & Grief, day after day? She has no choice. She must join forces with Love, who feels responsible for everything. They must find Faith, who has been fleeting. It is a monstrous battle, sometimes waged minute upon minute, with no clear plan and no clear end.

I need brass knuckles. (Good thing I already have the matching balls.) Onward we go, into the day.