At the end of 2017, someone close to me asked:
What is your biggest fear in life right now?
At first I was like, “Dang. I don’t know. Hmmm.”
The question made me uncomfortable. I hid my defensiveness, and secretly judged the question pointless. But I stayed with it.
Behind my resisting, my mind was searching for a “right” answer or an “interesting” response, and not necessarily, the truth.
So I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.
“Fahhhhhhhhhhhck.”
Something came up that I haven’t expressed out loud to anyone.
I choked up, and told my friend, through a giant lump in my throat and hot tears flowing like lava out of my eyes, that I was afraid of death — of losing someone close to me.
This was unexpected, overwhelming, and so very real to me in that moment, and it didn’t matter why. I was diving in…
I lost the man who had lovingly fathered me (my grandfather) when I nine years old, and the woman who had mothered me (my grandmother) just 5 years later, and since then, I haven’t expressed my fear of losing someone else — to ANYONE.
Phewww!!
I sobbed and felt the biggest relief. What came in the days after was even more lightness, and a smidgen of acceptance that death would come again.
It felt empowering, if even in the slightest, to accept this natural aspect of being human, to courageously turn toward the emotional scar on my heart, and, more than anything, to acknowledge the preciousness of the time I have left here.
I realised that I hadn’t whole-heartedly done any of these things until that very confession, due to: fear and unworthiness…
The fear of death’s oceanic sadness, mystery + unknown, and the self-limiting belief that I didn’t deserve to be empowered by the full expression + experience of Life.
I ended last year giving myself permission to feel how I’ve always felt, but pushed it so far away — that every day is an absolute gift, that life is brief and so very precious — and that every single breath counts.
Every single breath, baby.
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tanya@thugunicorn.com
Brilliant. Beautiful.
Wow. Your writing really makes me think about a lot of things, and it is incredibly inspiring. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us in a modern, eloquent, and easy to understand way. I can’t wait to keep reading. What a great start to the weekend!
I’m a 65 year old woman and I’ve been studying myself for about 27 years through the fellowship of Al-Anon – for friends and family of alcoholics. (I have a tendency to marry alcoholics.) I honestly thought that I was about as “good” as I was ever going to get.
My daughter brought this book along when she and her family came to my house to get out of the way of Hurricane Florence. I read it and was in tears by page 16 and magically uplifted on pages 55 and 57. Young lady, you are a force to be reckoned with! I will read or listen to every single thing you write or speak. I am excited to see the huge success you will have with your abilities, but I’m more excited about women reading your books and making changes of nourishment, empowerment and love for themselves. Thank you from the deepest part of me!
I cried throughout your whole entire book, I felt you got in my head and wrote my story line for line. I too was abandoned by both my parents, raised by grandparents who died when I was 10. I had a horrible stepmother who brought a lot of pain to me by showing me over and over my dad wanted her over me….thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I started the healing journey about a year ago and this book is balm for my soul.
Much love,
Sparkle2004
WOW! I have always had a fear of death, but never dived into why. I lost my grandpa in the 7th grade. My earliest memories of him is having cancer. Leaving for the hospital a robust man and returning a skeleton. I loved him with all my heart. I’ve also experienced childhood trauma and always equated that with my fear of death. Now, I see what an impact my grandfather’s death had in my life. My grandmother passed years later and then a couple years my father. Who I had only met a year ago. Thank you for opening my eyes and sharing your story. I dig your writing voice. I would love to share your post with my community and write a quick note about how your post brought me to tears of a transformational aha moment!