Fear

We all have fears. Some are rational; some are irrational.

Fear of spiders. Fear of heights. Fear of erect penises (ithyphallophobia – it’s real, look it up). I wish mine was that simple.

My fear is of losing the person I love. Loss can be in the horrible sense of something terrible happening to her or it can be in the horrible sense of her leaving me. I have no basis for this fear. I imagine the likelihood of the former is quite slim. And I am certain that she loves me very much, so the likelihood if the latter, too, is quite slim. So, why does this fear persist?

I spend more time than I should rationalizing away this irrational fear. Recently she went to Miami with a friend. I was nervous. Miami does not strike me as safe place; I’ve seen Dexter. I told her to text me frequently. She did, but not enough for me. There are millions of people that pass through Miami every year and all but a minute handful make it home okay. That knowledge helps but not completely. I still worry.

The jealousy is the worst though. I watch myself creating scenarios in my head at the slightest thing and I manage to get myself in quite the tizzy. I make jokes, but I don’t like it. It’s odd. I don’t have a problem with certain things – a guy putting his hands on her body on a nightclub dance floor – but text her a couple of time in an evening and the green-eyed monster begins to emerge like Mr. Hyde on a caffeine kick.

I always keep the cattle prod close at hand for when Mr. Hyde makes an appearance. I know that my fear is unfounded. I know that it is irrational and there is no reason for her to suffer from it. It is my problem; it shouldn’t have to be hers. I love her too much for that. I guess she knows now.