Statement of Fear

Today I was thinking about all the different things I could be doing other than being at work, like laundry, dishes, and there was the thought of my statement of purpose for grad school.  It will sound silly to most of you who read this because the piece is required to have 200-500 words explaining 'why me?' for this program.  I will say it also took me awhile to figure out what piece of my personal writing to submit also, which I did find after some inspiration reflecting that I understand fiction and can analyze it.

I still have a little time before my statement of purpose it due, still I am afraid that what I write will not be 'good enough.'  Yes, I will say I am a verbal artist even though for this piece I am utterly...speechless? wordless? artistically useless?  I want to express how every day I wake up wanting to put a pen in my hand and watch the ink bleed into the paper creating an imaginative world with adventures and journeys outside of reality or that I crave the smooth water-like feeling of computer keys against my figures as the words visually create brush strokes with no brush.  How do I express something I am so passionate about that if it does not exist I would feel a part of me died as this if my first thought in the morning and my last thought before I go to bed?  I keep writing this piece to submit over and over because I do not think what I am writing is 'good enough,' even by my own standard, then again I am a perfectionist who fears failure.

This week I realized my statement of purpose is not my only fear in relation to writing.  Winter is among us and my hands hurt to the point of tears, at least lately.  Within the last year I saw a rheumatologist who told me that I have Psoriatic Arthritis, which affects my skin and my joints.  A long time ago, sometime after my siblings and I had lice, I saw a doctor who told me I had Psoriasis, which is a skin disease where my skin cells develop faster than normal that eventually create itchy scaly patches in specific parts of my body.  Psoriasis is an autoimmune disease, meaning my body is basically attacking itself. (Side note from my morbid sense of humor: Could this be considered an uncontrollable type of suicide?-I apologize if that is not funny to you, but I am not a serious persona at heart).  The arthritis that is developed in people who have Psoriasis is also autoimmune mainly in the joints, leaving them swollen and sometimes a bit unmanageable.

Are you wondering why I told you all this yet?  If you must know, I am a very independent person to the point that sometimes I believe it is better to just depend on yourself so that no one else can hurt you or let you down.  With this theory in mind, I am scared that someday my hands will let me down and I will have to be on some form of disability, unable to write or express all the passion I have inside for things in life.  This is my weakness and I am not meant to be weak!  

I understand there are worse things out there, diseases more severe that take away pieces of people, but that does not necessarily make my fear or their fear any different  because these things take away a piece of the people they inhabit.  Now, I feel for those people, I really do, but for the purpose of this entry I am telling my story from my point of view knowing that somewhere someone has similar feelings and they are not alone.  Each moment my fingers grow cold, swell up more than usual, or just become utterly painful I do cry because I am not only losing my fingers, but an entity of me and I have already lost myself once in my lifetime.  That, however, is another story, but I am not going to end this post on a 'woe is me note,' because that is not me.  

I have learned, in the last couple years, that the things we fear the most are the things we want/need the most.  I want to write and I need to write because I cannot... no...I will not let a piece of me die.  So like any other strong person facing an obstacle, I prolong the inevitable as long as I can through the use of medication, keeping my hands warm, exercising regularly to keep my blood flowing properly like I did with my knees, and continue to write what I can.  I guess you could almost compare this to the saying of 'it is better to loved and lost, than to have never loved at all' because as long as I do what I love, I cannot feel lost. (Excuse me, time to warm up the hands :P)