The more to love – the more to lose

I was going through my drafts folder and found this post that, stomach as far as I can tell, I never posted. I wrote it in July 2009 and updated it because it is even more applicable today.

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Ever since I was a little girl I’ve had this bizarre fear that someday the Universe is going to royally fuck me over and take away those I love the most. When I was young it was my parents and siblings I worried about. I would lie in bed while my brother and sister (both teenagers while I was still quite young) would be out with their friends until late in the night. Usually I would wake up in the middle of the night and check to see if they were home and, finding them gone, go back to bed imagining horrifying scenes of them getting into car accidents – with each other – and cry myself to sleep. And woe betide the parents who didn’t leave a note if they were going to be staying out late!

Yes, I have a morbid streak in me a mile wide and I’m sure you can see where this is leading.

My family when I first wrote this post.

I’ve always been under the assumption that I don’t get to keep the Mister forever. I don’t know where this belief stems from either (maybe this but I’m pretty sure I felt this way from the beginning) – just a vague feeling that he is too good for me, too good for this world and that someday, while he is still quite young, he is going to be gone. Maybe that is why I was so reluctant to do what I have wanted to do for a long time – take his name – when I know I’m just going to have to switch back to my own eventually. Although I did make the switch earlier this year – I keep having his babies so it seemed the thing to do.

I once read that widow fantasies are normal for women – they don’t mean that you want your husband to die (unless of course you do), they just mean that you are comforting yourself with the thought that if something did happen to him you weren’t going to become a heartbroken recluse rereading his letters (e-mails) until they disintigrated in your hands.

Now that I’m a Mum, I’m finding my paranoia is reaching new levels. Now don’t get me wrong – I’m not locking Moira in her room by any means – in fact I find to counter balance my craziness I tend towards the other extreme. And you wouldn’t know to look at me that I am preparing myself for the day when this idyllic life that I have goes to hell and I have to spend the rest of my days broken and alone, pouring over the photos I obsessively take (even though most of them are shite but I can’t bring myself to delete them). But it’s there – this weirdness that defines me in some way. Underneath the surface I’m terrified that they are all going to be taken from me.

But now a new fear has crept its way in – because this, coupled with my irrational fear of moths (come on – they are the creepiest bug ever!) isn’t enough – I now worry about dying and leaving the girls motherless. Until recently I was pretty sure I was going to live until well into my 90s. But now I have something to really lose I’m not so sure. The Mister, being a scientist, is pretty firm with his belief that when we die nothing will matter to us anymore. Personally, just the thought of not being around to see Moira & Fionnuala grow up is enough to make me nauseous and send me into a towering rage that I am sure I will carry with me into the beyond.

My family as of yesterday morning.

Since human nature is pretty much the same everywhere I like to console my neurosis with the knowledge that the world (spirit world?) is full of pissed-off mom-ghosts looking out for their children.

What do you think? Got any fears, irrational or otherwise, that you want to share?

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