Lately, I've been in a funk. And it seems that slowly, but surely, people in my life are also drifting into a similar funk. Which only serves to make me more...funky. I've tried countless times to pinpoint the root of my funk. Most days, I get no where. Today, I'm making baby steps.
Today is the day I admit that I'm afraid.
I'm afraid...that I will end up that nasty, jaded wife who sat a table over from us at lunch yesterday chastising her husband for his choice of restaurant.
I'm afraid...that once Chuck sees me become a grumpy, cranky monster, he won't love me anymore.
I'm afraid...that the money I'm pouring into getting a Masters in Food Studies will only serve to leave me more in debt and with just as few career options as I have now.
I'm afraid...that if I don't get a job writing about food and hunger issues that I'll be utterly hopeless and insignificant.
I'm afraid...to read my Bible. I believe in God, but don't want to become familiar with His Word because I don't know how to reconcile the things written that I don't like.
I'm afraid...of losing the most important people in my life. Sometimes I wake up from nightmares where I've lost my mom, sister, or Chuck. I don't know a life without them and I never want to.
I'm afraid...of change. I can't continue working a minimum-wage paying job forever, but I'm afraid to leave.
I'm afraid...that I'm losing my spirit. The part of me that was so independent and self-sufficient is being stifled. And all that is left is a girl who is...afraid.