Calliope’s recent post has me wondering about why we don’t believe we deserve goodness.
Sometimes when I am feeling incredible lucky and happy and full of abundance and life, I start having fantasies (like a lucid dream) of S. dying and what I would say at her funeral. I always start to cry, in real life. Sometimes she dies in an auto crash, suddenly, sometimes from a long and painful illness. Always I am left alone to wonder whether or not I can survive. And certainly I will never find love like this again. Ever.
Then I remain devastated, sad and in a terrible mood for a long time. Like Carmen on the L Word, when she dreamt that Shane cheated on her and was subsequently pissed for days even though it did not really happen.
It is very strange. Like my psyche will not allow me to be unabashedly happy.
Sadly, I live my life with this secret dread. I can hardly bear to think of her death, or my son’s. But the fear haunts me, always present in the background. Waiting for me to make a deserving mistake. Or waiting for me to really let go, to unabashedly bask in the joy of my life and my loves.
So that is it right there. I keep the fears close, so that I am not caught off guard. If I let go then I will be surprised.
Sadly, I live my life with this secret dread.