Miedo

The background noise isn't static, or machinery from some bygone industrial age expansion. It isn't the cosmos contracting and it's certainly not god. It's fear. A constant chorus of scared, doubtful thoughts: how can you say that I'm just trying to protect you, you don't know what you're up against in this world, if you get sick who will come to your rescue if you don't have health insurance, if you don't make money you're nothing, how will you live, if it's so hard why bother you'll only wear yourself out.

Mama's voice is potent. Since I was a kid my brain's been recording it and playing it back on a longer and longer loop. It keeps me from being content. It keeps me charged with anxiety. Right now, it's filling me with doubt about all my life decisions.

I said no to a full time job in order to pursue a fun baking internship, then I got scared of the fun bakery: too tiring, too difficult, not what I imagined--this is how the fear hides itself, as excuses. And so then I said MAYBE to the full time job. I told my would-be boss that I'd phase out of the bakery because I didn't think baking would work with my playwriting needs. But neither will a 9-5:30 office job.

It makes me feel like a pathetic lump when I realize how frequently I depend on the droning loop of mama's fears to guide my decisions. Is growing up finding an off switch for the recording, or just playing a different loop?

The incessant sound of fear has left me paralyzed to the point where I don't know what to do, whether to take the full time gig and quit the baking, quit the full time AND the baking and find a part time job, or bake and find a part time job. Every option is noisy. I have to be able to write. That's all.