I want to say that I'm not afraid anymore.
I want to say that I've burned the wick out of my fear and let it sputter into nothingness.
But it wouldn't be completely true. How could it be?
I've wrestled my fear and found it to be small and powerless. I've been woken up by my fear and found it to be looming and dark.
I would name fear as my arch nemesis.
It follows me, trips me, seeks to destroy me.
I keep conquering it, but it will never really die.
It's the condition of humankind.
We're always afraid of something - afraid of dying, afraid of not being loved or known, afraid of failing, afraid of being victimized and wounded, afraid of rejection, afraid of emotional torture, afraid of predators, afraid of ourselves, afraid of darkness, afraid of coming into the light.
It's existence. It's a part of all of us.
But it can't have us. It can't be our master.
If fear rules, we're lost.
I can't say that I've destroyed my fear, but I can say that it hasn't destroyed me.
I look it in the face everyday. I choose to not bow to its strength.
I see my fear, and it sees me.
But I am certain of something stronger and brighter. I'm a slave to the Glorious. The holiest names have been written on my soul.
Fear is not my master.