Living With Fear...

"The issue is not whether you are paranoid, the issue is whether you are paranoid enough."


When it comes to my boys, I am paranoid.

It does not stem from love, as I once thought it did. With love, there is a certain amount of acceptance, and trust that everything will work out - if not well - exactly as it should.

No, it is not love that creates paranoia, it's obsession. And obsession has no patients for acceptance and trust.

Parenting is hard. We are all told how hard as soon as people learn we are expecting, usually with a knowing smile, and an "You'll find out soon enough" gleam in the eyes. It is hard, but not for the reasons I was led to believe.

Do I enjoy having 3 hours of broken sleep a night for weeks on end? Not particularly.
Is it fun to be constantly turning down invitations to day trips, or nights out, or weekends away? No. No it is not.
What about the thrill of changing dirty nappies, tantrums, public scenes, and cleaning up vomit? Awesome stuff, but not my favorite activities....

These are the things I was led to believe would be hard, and they can be, but if we're working to a difficulty scale, they will never come close to comparing with the torrent of tragic scenarios that fly through my head on a daily basis.

What is it that I fear? The short answer is: Most things.

They mainly fall into three categories: I fear accidents, natural disasters, and people. Most of all people.

I will not elaborate on these things, to give weight to them seems like a taunt to the law of attraction, so they forever live like fog in my mind - I will not dwell on them, but seeing through the veil of mist influences every parenting decision I make. Can I avoid the law of attraction by deliberately not focusing? I hope so.

Are some people just in more danger than others? Is there some inexplicable threat hanging over my boys that I instinctively feel?... Am I only doing exactly what it takes to keep them safe?

Or, is my own self-importance feeding this?

I know parents, good parents who love there children emphatically, that don't seem to share this anxiety. They are aware of the dangers and risks, but know the chances of them happening are small, so can move on with little hindrance.

Statistics mean nothing to me. If the chance exists, it is a possibility, and therefore an attempt must be made to guard against it.

In saying all this, I know I can not protect them from everything - I'm not supposed to. Maybe one day I'll be able to send them to their grans house for the weekend, and not have that underlying feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, not have the urge to call 50 times to see how they're doing.

One day, but not this day.

I have made a truce with the paranoia and obsession, and for the most part, the co-exist peacefully with the love. But they are always there in my peripheral mind, because, in all truth, if they are helping me keep the boys even the tiniest bit safer, I'm not prepared to give them up.


xox