I understand now with perfect clarity what I had been fighting to understand throughout my twenties. Before my children came and took away any spare moments I might have had, before the husband sat down and asked me my thoughts every night, before adulthood came crashing down and demanded of me what so many others were willing to give, I fought to understand who I was. I wanted to know why I was frightened every night. Why, when the sun said it's final farewell, did I begin to panic. At night, when seemingly normal human beings cuddled up to their loved ones with thoughts of passion in their minds, I grasped hold of whomever I could as a drowning man would grasp for a single piece of floating debris.
Alone, fear would grip me. I would lay in bed, tossing and turning. It would toy with my emotions. Tell me there was someone outside ready to strike as soon as I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I know now that this is not the case. I realize that the only monsters I am to be frightened of are the ones I create for myself. Isn't that the case with all of us? The terrible, tragic events that play out in our mind's eye are much worse than anything reality could ever deal.