If the fears come true

If this turns out to be among the many things I fear it to be, I will survive it.

I have survived things similar before.

The bad thing about that is that I know what will be in store. I will be very, very, very angry, and anger is very frightening for me. I will be very, very, very scared, and fear is the most terrifying thing of all for me. I will feel shattered—but I won’t be—and I will have a really hard time focusing on anything else—but I will manage to. I won’t want to eat, and when I try, it will be hard to swallow—but I will get myself to the gym and work up an appetite enough to lose only so much that I am changed but not in danger.

I will feel horribly alone, but I won’t be. I will thrash around at night looking for a lifeline and I will sometimes miss it and just keep thrashing, but then sometimes, I will find it, and there will be deep peace.

I will look around and I will see many dear friends. They won’t be physically present, and that will be very scary and hard, but they will call, they will write, and they will listen to my tears, and rage, and fear, and confused words, as they have so many times before.

And I will pray. And I will pray in the dark alone with no one listening sometimes. And those will be the long dark nights of the soul that will be miserable, but I will survive them. And sometimes I will whisper, and I will be heard, and held, and I will feel myself start to come back to life again.

This time will be different, because I’ve never been where I am before. I am pretty sure this time will be worse. But I also have something I’ve never had before, and that is the years that have come and gone, that I have worn like clothes that then became a new part of my skin. Maybe to make it thicker. Maybe.

But whatever comes, I will survive it. I will survive it, and it will just hurt like hell. So why fear it now? I can’t stop the pain if it is on its way. But what I can do is rest up for the storm. I can know that something really hard might be coming, and I can take precautions. Not the kind that prevent things, but the kind that make one more ready for the struggle. Resting. Loving myself. Keeping things simple. And working.

I don’t know if I can do those things, but they are good goals. And if I can’t, I can still know that I will get through, whatever is on its way.

And of course, it might only be my fear, and I might be passed over this time, once again. But if not, I will go on.