Grief and fear go hand in hand and yesterday was a prime example of how fear lives within the boundaries of grief. I was thrown into a land of confusion. I allowed myself to go down the rabbit hole. It was dark and brambly and I got tangled up in this mess.
Thorny branches were tearing my skin. My eyes could not adjust to the darkness. Then there was the unbreathable air filled with the smell of dampness and mold, rot and other undetectable things.
It was frightening.The more I looked for a way out, the deeper I went until all I could do was sit down, hug my knees and weep.
Voices in my head were asking me why I had allowed myself to follow the path down to this putrid darkness.
The answer is simple. I allowed fear to take over my rational thinking and it plucked at me like a vulture ripping open a dead animal on the road. I felt like a child who is terrified of the dark and sees monsters under her bed who would surely snatch her away if she put her hand off the mattress.
Monsters of fear, vultures tearing away at my heart, dark putrid dampness, and a flashing sign warning me if I continued on this path I might never be able to turn back or return to earth again.
This is what happens when fear and grief collide.