Lost Dreams and Salty Tears

   

 Many thoughts plague my mind: hopes, dreams, ideas, questions, fears. My soul is stirred. There are a few pages left in this chapter of my life, yet I find myself unable to turn the page. 

A challenge has presented itself. 

I read the last sentence over and over again but my brain refuses to process the phonemes into a message. 
What am I so afraid of? 

Previously, I wrote of my fear to feel everything. I think I have grown to a point where I still don’t want to feel everything, but I have learned to accept that I just will and that I am learning how to handle it. For the most part, it is no longer a fear. 

Again, I ask myself, What am I so afraid of? 

And I patiently wait for the answer while my heart and soul speak to one another. 

My mind continues its rebellion. 

I meditate…for an hour and a half. 

Finally, I come to terms with what my heart fears: lost dreams…again. And it hurts. 

Tears stream down my face like salty rivers. My shirt is wet where the tear drops fall from my chin, pulled by Earth’s gravity. 

Things are going so well! I’m forging new and deep friendships. Old friendships have been strengthened. I’m learning so much about the Viking era and Scandinavian culture. I am becoming Fríða. We are becoming one in the same person. It’s exhilarating! It’s enthralling! 

Yet here I sit in a tear-stained shirt with salty cheeks, fighting the fear of losing my dreams. 

Reality has hit me hard.  

I may not get to take my dream trips to Scotland or Iceland this year as I had planned. I have specific obligations I must meet, both long-standing and brand new. 

The fear that this may be the case grips the core of my being like a boa constrictor slowly and gently squeezing the life from its prey with each exhale. 

I am not alone. I have good friends who love me deeply and hold my hands. Yet I am alone. I must face the end of this chapter by turning the pages until the new chapter presents itself. It won’t be long from now; just a couple of page-turns. 

I find myself holding my breath as I come to this realization. My eyes close and I release a long exhale. 

You can do this, Fríða Káradóttir. It will hurt but you can do it. 

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