Often times at work, and I’m mostly talking about my morning job, I will ask my coworkers completely random questions. My questions will generally have no real reason or rhyme to them, other than to break the monotonous routine of cleaning the same areas day after day. It can get old really quick. My rule with questions is that I will never ask a question that I’m not willing to answer myself. Usually I never have to worry about it. Most people aren’t comfortable enough to ask them in return, and very few of them ever venture out and ask me their own questions. So, if you can imagine, it can become and feel pretty one-sided. I usually don’t mind. A few days ago I somehow got asking questions about fear. Specifically, I asked what this person was most afraid of. As luck would have it, this is one of the few times that the question was turned back on me.
What do I fear?
The question really got me thinking. And I took some time to answer because I believe in being honest and open. I’ve thought a lot about my answer. And I’ve thought a lot about fear because of that. Growing up, I was always taught that fear is the opposite of faith and that the two cannot co-exist. Well I well and truly believe in faith, and having faith, and I have no doubts at all about where I place my faith, I’ve started to think that there is a place for fear as well. That there is reason for fear. That’s not saying that I know what it is. But, without fear what would we face? Without fear, how could we learn which direction we need to grow in?
What do I fear?
I fear the future. I fear my future. I fear what lays in store for me in regards to my health. I follow the blogs of several people who have MS and I’ve talked to several more in person and I hear what they go through as they talk about the trials, the hardships, the ever-changing symptoms and the progression of their MS. And always present in the back of my mind is this little thought. This little voice that whispers ever so quietly and subtly that this is my future. And it could be right. I think it that that is scariest part. It could be. It very well could be my future. I think back to all the times I would ask people that if they could know their future would they want to? I don’t have to think up an answer for that one as much anymore. In my regards I feel like my future is an inevitability. And not the details. I don’t know how it will get worse for me. Despite that though, I am practically guaranteed a sentence of it will get worse. Maybe for a day, a week, a month or permanently. But it will get worse. It will get harder.
I fear my future. I fear my future because there are already days where I don’t want to get up. Days where the only thing that keeps me going is an unwillingness to even let myself sit down, for fear of lacking the energy to get back up again. Moments where I’m hiding my inability to hold things, where I can’t think straight because I feel completely muddled in my head.
I fear the thought of being alone. Of never finding someone who is willing to stick through it all with me. I fear that I won’t always want to stick through it. And the idea of expecting that of someone else just seems extremely unfair to me. And maybe it’s not. I really don’t know. I fear never finding out though. This fear festers there, not ever very close to the surface, but always below, waiting for me to think about it. To watch another friend get married, another couple appear in my ward. It often seems irrational, to fear being alone. I mean, I’m still young, despite rarely feeling young, and I have no reason to rush, or to worry about running out of time.
I guess this is where faith plays a role. Fear keeps me aware. Aware of what I need, what I want. Aware of what my body is doing to me and my health. But that faith keeps me going day to day. Reminds me that there is a light at the end of a tunnel. Faith reminds me that there is hope still. Faith reminds me that it’s worth holding on. Holding on through this game of tug of war. A vicious fight between two forces that don’t go hand in hand but are never completely apart.
I think I need to stop asking questions to my coworkers.