I’ve shared pretty openly on this blog about how afraid I can be of things. I’ve asked for prayer over my fears, and I’ve even admitted some of those fears. Because they’ve read my posts, I’ve had a few friends share with  me recently about their own battles with fear, anxiety, and worry. Struggling with fear is like living in a nightmare hundreds of times a day. And then at night, actually having nightmares. When a person is afraid, there is no place to hide. No place feels safe. Fear is all-consuming. It’s a dark cloud hanging over one’s head. It robs people of joy making their days long, exhausting, and well, terrifying.

As I mentioned, three friends shared with me recently about their struggles with fear. Each friend shared in a different way. One shared in person, the other shared over the phone, and the third shared via email. This has got me thinking a lot about the topic, and I want to help others put an end to this battle. I want to see my own battle come to an end, too.  My heart aches for each woman who shared because I know the prison they are living in at times. You see, I’m addicted to fear. Just like an alcoholic is always an alcoholic even when they are sober, so I am a fear addict even when there are moments I do live in peace.

Let me give you an examples of the way in which I can be consumed with fear. The day I got out of the hospital after delivering Basye I was upstairs and had decided to go downstairs to ask Chuck a question. I was at the top of the stairs when I heard my Mom say to Chuck, “I don’t want to tell Ab this, but I feel a lump in Jase’s neck.” As you can imagine, I immediately began to examine Jase’s neck myself. Though I couldn’t actually feel anything, the seed had been planted, and I began to worry. Both babies already had a doctor’s appointment for that Friday (just 2 days later), but I was convinced I needed to call the doctor and take Jase right in to have it checked. I WANTED THE PEACE OF MIND. I CRAVED peace of mind.

Thankfully Chuck was able to bring me down to reality and encouraged me to just wait for the regularly scheduled appointment. I hated waiting. I was already quarantined from my babies and family for fear they would catch the flu, and then I had to contend with my own mind about yet another issue. The two day wait was torture. When Chuck finally came home from the appointment that Friday, my heart was pounding (having just lost a lot of blood didn’t help!). It was awful waiting for him to come upstairs and give me the report about Jase’s neck. I had already imagined the doctor confirming my fears- that Jase had a tumor in his neck. Yet that wasn’t the case at all. “The lump” was a normal lymph node that his doctor said she see’s “a hundred times a day”. What an amazing relief! Or it should have been. I had relief until a couple nights later when I was holding Jase as he was sleeping and his neck was turned in a certain way. That allowed me to finally feel the lump myself and my heart skipped into an utter panic.

Even though the doctor had already checked that lump I was still very, very afraid. The moment my finger brushed against that lymph node, I internally turned the key to unlock the door of The Prison of Fear. I sentenced myself to that prison and lived there for days. My hands and feet and mind were all shackled to that one thought, “Jase has a tumor!” Some of you may find this funny because it really sounds ridiculous. I fully realize this. But that realization never changes anything for me. I still lived in terror that Jase had a tumor. I no longer enjoyed rubbing his sweet neck, or listening to his precious giggles, or holding him in my arms, or kissing his neck because I was miserable believing he had cancer. I was sick inside about this, and I couldn’t think about much else.

In the mean time, I was also very afraid for Basye about a physical thing with her, but I won’t bombard you with that story since this post is already long enough. I just want you to feel the terror, to experience the prison I live in when I give into such fears. Does anybody else find themselves there, too? It’s my choice to give in to fears, whether realistic or not, and all too often I choose to lock myself up. I’m addicted.

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Stay tuned, if you would. I promise there will be peace at the end of the tunnel. =)