Thoughts on fear. 

We took Spencer to the playground after work today. Much to his delight, someone had brought two gigantic play balls and left them unattended. He immediately started yelling “ball, ball” and ran over to one. I apologized to the other mom there, but she said the balls were already there when she got here and they don’t know whose they are. 

And as my child picked one up and proceeded to play with it for the next 30 minutes, I had a fleeting thought that what if some sick weirdo had somehow poisoned them and then left them there knowing a child would pick them up. What if someone somehow put a bomb inside these playground balls and left them as bait? 

Obviously neither of these are rational thoughts or likely scenarios. I hate that my mind even went there. I hate that my mind always goes there. 

I hate that every time I’m in an enclosed space, such as a classroom or at church, my mind goes to thoughts of a shooter coming in and us having no escape. 

I hate that the idea of flying on an airplane does not bring me thoughts of excitement and travel, but rather thoughts of plane crashes and death. 

I hate that every time I’m in a vehicle, my mind is racing with thoughts about the other drivers and whether they are drunk, high, or about to crash into my baby’s side of the car because they can’t stay off their phone. 

I hate that when people say hi or approach Spencer with a smiling face, part of my mind is worried that they’re sex traffickers or molesters about to grab him and run off. 

I hate that the thought of leaving him overnight with anyone, even our closest relatives, fills me with fear that he might choke or eat a battery or drown in the tub or die in his sleep, if I’m not there to watch his every move. 

I hate that I think about guns so much and worry about being caught in the crosshairs of some domestic dispute or rolling gun battle on the highway or killed for my iPhone. 

I hate that I will never wear earbuds outside of home/work, because I’m afraid it will distract me from someone who might try to abduct me. 

I hate that I can no longer attend any type of festival or crowded public event without a worry that some terrorist in a truck is about to come plowing through. And that my mind is constantly checking my surroundings, ready to snatch Spencer up and run out of the way if something does happen. 

Yes, we live in a world where disturbed people do disturbing things. People do leave things on playgrounds with the intent to hurt kids. People do steal kids and do unspeakable things to them. People do drive irresponsibly and with no regard for other people’s lives. People do use their guns carelessly. Murders and shootings happen. Terrorist attacks happen. Plane crashes happen. Accidents happen. And I hate that. (Also – I’ve seen one too many episodes of Criminal Minds.)

There’s no guarantee that any of the above will (or will not) happen to me or my family. Jordan likes to try to reassure me with statistics and how unlikely things are. This is a completely useless and ineffective response to irrational thoughts and fear. To me, a 0.5% chance is the same as a 90% chance. 

I hate that this is how my mind works and how it has worked since I was a child. I don’t think this way intentionally. It just happens. I don’t even feel relief if I “conquer” a fear and nothing bad happens. I just feel that I lucked out that time. 

I know this is no way to live, but it’s the only way I know to live. It’s something I have prayed about for many years and yet it still happens. I have seen therapists and taken medication that did no good. I’m still able to function and live a relatively normal and enjoyable life, but I can’t imagine a life where my mind isn’t exploring all the what ifs. And I hate that.