My fears.

I have so many fears.  My mom said I was a bit of a scared child, but she was too.  It must be genetic.  One of my biggest and socially weird fears is that I am deathly afraid of mentally retarded people.  This is weird, I know.  But I have a reason.  (I am NOT being insensitive to those with mental problems.  My cousin is mentally disabled.  Don’t even think about it.)

When I was 3 I used to always go with my grandmother to the Methodist church with her to pick up flowers and then take them to the hospital to congregants that were ill.  When she would get the flowers in the kitchen I would sing hymns on the stage into the microphone.  I’ve always been a bit of a drama queen.

One day, Grandmom and I took the flowers to the hospital as usual.  I think we were on a psychiatric floor or something because I remember a giant man in a hospital gown run towards me as Grandmom was speaking with a patient.  “How are you feeling?” she asked.  The man doubled over and grabbed my little three-year-old body and went running with me.  HE TRIED TO KIDNAP ME.  True life, this happened.  I was screaming and crying as he clenched his fists on my scrawny arms.  I remember looking back and seeing Grandmom come after me, with a look of terror in her eyes.

In the end, the man was tackled and the hospital staff recovered me.  That was a close one.  Ever since then, I have been cautious around those that are mentally handicapped.  I didn’t realize this was the reason until recently.  The reason I am fearful of them is because you never quite know what they’re going to do.  It’s strange because I have no problem with any type of children, but adults that cannot handle themselves in a social setting makes me shake in my boots.

I’m trying to be as politically correct as possible so don’t say I’m prejudiced or rude or anything.  This is a legitimate fear and that is all I am sharing.

Maybe this instance was why I have always been paranoid that I am going to be kidnapped.  Lucky I got out of that one.  I have always been so completely scared of someone breaking into any house I am in and quietly taking me away.  This fear was put on steroids when a girl I knew when I was little was kidnapped and murdered.  Her name was Casey.  She ran out of gas on the highway and was only a mile from a gas station.  A man offered her a ride to the gas station.  Then, he murdered her.

Ever since this happened my paranoia has been on full blast.  I am wide awake if I hear a noise.  I check 3 times to make sure the doors are locked.  Oh boy…

I had a lot of death in my life when I was little.  When I was 7 my great-grandfather died.  When I was 10 my grandmother died.  I miss her so much.  When I was 14 my grandfather died.  When I was 15 my great-uncle died.  When I was 18 my grandmother died.  When I was 18 a girl that I went to school with, one that I looked up to tremendously, committed suicide.  When I was 19 my great-aunt died.  When I was 20 Susan died.  This is a lot of death to deal with in just 20 years.  Ever since Susan died I have been obsessively paranoid that someone even closer to be is going to die.  Day and night I think about it.  Sometimes I even tear up thinking about what I would do if my mom or dad died.  Why am I so fixated on death?  I’m not a psychologist.  All I know is that I pray everyday to keep the people around me just one more day. 

These are my fears.  Are they irrational?  Maybe for you, but not for me.