As part of research for a new work I am creating I have started the practice of free writing all the things I am afraid of. I do this with the intention of being able to see and concretize  what they (my fears) are and in doing so be able to lessen their impact, challenge myself to overcome them and to see the humour in my paranoias.

This the list from the journal of fears that I have been writing on and off over the past month. I am sharing it here as a peek into a practice and a piece of my process not as a work in and of itself. I have not edited it, it is here as it is on my page and so there are some fears that repeat themselves or are very similar. The list will grow over time.

I will write “I am afraid” at the beginning so as not to write it a hundred times but please know it prefaces each statement.

I AM AFRAID:

I will be alone.
I am ugly.
I will be suffocated by relationship.
I will be rejected.
I am boring.
I am going to die.
I cannot move.
Of pain.
I will be successful and have nothing to complain about.
Of my mind.
Of change.
I will stay the same.
I will never evolve.
I won’t get an answer.
I won’t like the answer I get.
Of becoming decrepit.
Of the future.
That I am empty.
I cannot control my mind.
I will panic.
I will never become conscious.
I am not playful.
Children will not listen to me.
I am a child.
I am always lying.
Of being left out.
Of jumping in.
Of water that is dark and deep.
Of admitting my existence.
Of looking stupid.
I will not be intelligent.
I will be pompous.
I have no intuition.
Of silence.
Of taking full responsibility for my actions.
My legs are too short.
I am a chocoholic.
Of being fat.
Of getting old.
Of not having any money.
Of making clear decisions.
Of being wrong.
I have nothing to say.
My perspective is ignorant.
Of my prejudices.
Of ice on the road.
Of not knowing what I want.
Of not being able to admit to myself what I want.
Of war.
That I don’t matter.
Of not being heard.
I am unlovable.
Of being hungry.
Of desperation.
Of mountain lions and bears.
Of very old, large cathedrals.
There will be no clean air or forest left soon.
Of becoming my grandmother.
My preferences will inhibit me.
Of breaking social codes.
Of being hated.
Of shutting out possibilities.
Of ambiguity.
Of exhaustion.
I won’t be able to push myself.
I will stop questioning.
Of not knowing my limits.
Of enforcing my limits too strongly.
Of creating drama.
Of rigid ideas (my own).
Of having no energy.
Of limitless possibilities.
Of not taking action.
Of drowning myself in future fantasy.
I have lost connection with my brother.
Of my mother dying.
Of never becoming as wise as she is.
Of eating sea urchin.
That I won’t ever trust fully.
Of being seen for who I really am.
I will never understand how privileged my life is.
Of sharks.
Rocks underwater at the beach.
Of people running behind me.
Of the unknown.
The world will become more and more violent.
Of fixed ideas.
Of fear itself.
Of no more questions.
Of never becoming a tree.
Of reality.
Of not knowing what that is.
Of hyper judgmental people.
Of my hyper judgmental self.
Of not knowing when to stop.
Of caring very little.
Of needing/whining too much.
Of relying on others to fulfill my ideas of happiness.
Of too much sleep.
Of diabetes.
Of my own rigidity.
Of having no money.
Of victimizing those around me confusing that with love.
Of creating situations in which I am the victim in an attempt to get attention.
Of being blocked.
Of being transparent.
Of expectations running the show.
Of my own expectations.
Of not contributing to the world.
Of not furthering my existence.
Of not looking to the future.
Of being wrong.
Of invisible structures becoming constraints.
Of turning shit into shit.
Of no structure.
Of successful formulas.
Of not being patient.
Of not listening.
Of not hearing.
Of not being understood.
Of no rupture.
Of rupture.
Of following the same.
Of the American Army Complex.
Of capitalism.
Of my own greed.
Of being unclear.
Of being too cautious.
Of not existing.