I am hesitant to write again about my fears. For the most part, they are at bay. But every once in a while they will grip me. It's like getting hit really hard in a pillow fight....it
whooshes the air right out of my lungs. That sounds like a terrible analogy. But truly it is not like getting hit with a brick. It is more deceiving than that. It comes on soft and then just undoes me.
I have a
debilitating fear of dying, not for me but for my children. In the "The Secret" vernacular just by thinking about dying means I am bringing it to me or causing it (for lack of a better
description). I am trying hard....very hard....to avoid thinking about it. I don't want to give it energy....don't want to fuel it. I am lucky that positive thinking is more my nature.
The other good news is that the bouts with fear ARE getting less frequent. And nights like tonight when I wake with a start out of a dead sleep and am experiencing that bladder-weakening, heart-stopping fear, I go to each of the kid's rooms to nuzzle their necks with kisses and then climb back into my own bed to visit with my faithful Father. Please God, don't let the cancer come back. I know You have a Master Plan but please, I pray, let me raise my children.