"Nearly Done"

Got an e-mail from Gary titled: "Fw: PRIV: Assignment Approval Notification - Hurst" - the PRIV part meaning Private - so here I am blogging about it, bad, bad Lori. And this message from Gary:

"This is the next to last step before these become official. Nearly done."

And, all of a sudden it became real ... too real for me. Gary is my best friend and he is going away. How are we going to work this out? What am I going to do? How am I going to keep my shit together? Basically a full on panic attack - a fear of what is ahead, a fear of being apart, a fear of the the unknown.

Then I remembered an article (if you will) in, of all places a Scrapbooking Newsletter (yes, you can mock me - I read them - so..... Molly Mormon). I get one every day from this site and it always has a snippet of writing called 'Muses by Ro' - the owner of the Scrapbooking company. I have been thinking about it lately and wanted to read it again today. Had to go find it in my deleted bin:

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Fear of the Unknown - a terrible fellow. He stands in hip boots and shakes fists in the air.
He pulls frightening faces. He points and he paces. He laughs when he scares you. He just doesn’t care.

Fear of the Unknown – a terrible wild man. He’ll rip up your sofa and steal all your bread.
He’ll total your car and embezzle your money. He’ll fire you, disown you, and leave you for dead.

Fear of the Unknown – a powerful fellow ’cause that’s what he’s told you and that’s what you think.
But the truth of the truth (and it’s time that you knew it) is that Fear of the Unknown’s a weak, sniveling stink.

He is vanquished forever when questions are answered - his ill-mannered questions that torment at night -
the questions that stand in the back of your closet - that jump out and get you and give you a fright.

“What if you fail here?” He whispers and teases. “What if they fire you and send you away?
You’ll starve, don’t you know? You can’t handle disasters. You’re weak. You’re a coward. You’re foolish and lame.”

“What if you’re sick?” He mentions while moaning. “What if you’re so sick that you pass away?
You’ll leave them behind without any money. They’ll suffer and hate you when you’re in your grave.”

Fear of the Unknown – a persistent fellow. He sits in the parlor and rides in your truck.
He follows you closely and sticks to your clothing. He walks in your shadow and laughs when you’re stuck.

Fear of the Unknown – a sham of a fellow. His questions of terror you do need to hear.
So listen and grab them and hold them and squeeze them. Write them and read them. Get rid of the fear.

Prepare for the worst things, the worst that he asks you. Decide what you’d do if your nightmares come true.
Consider each one, from beginning to finish. How would you manage? What would you do?

And then he will leave you, old Fear of the Unknown. He’ll leave you alone. He will go far away.
Preparing and planning when you hear his questions are certain to scare him. He’ll go without pay.

’Cause Fear of the Unknown loves shadows and darkness. Fear of the Unknown loves terror at night.
He doesn’t like bravery or courage or action. He doesn’t like people who put up a fight.


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And it calms me ... because this? I'm gonna put up a fight.