A letter to Fear in regard to the terrors I was exposed to as a child. |
Dear Fear, You used to scare me. You used to scare me with your tales of death in the bible. You used to scare me when my dad would get drunk, beat up my mum, my brother and throw stools through the wall. I used to lay awake at night and listen to him yelling and be too scared to get out of bed. Thanks for that Fear. You used to scare me when I'd stay up late and watch Orca that movie about monstrous killer whales. From the shadows, so no one could see me watching it too. I was scared Orca was going to bust through our floorboards like he did the deck of that ship. Even though we were 400 kms inland. You used to scare me so much about vampires that I didn't sleep with my head out of the covers until I was a teenager. Foxes too. For the same reason. What if I pulled my covers back and there was a fox looking at me? You used to scare me too, when my brother would tell me that vampires could get me during the day as well as the night. Because they could just turn invisible to escape the sunlight. You used to scare me that I would never stop crying when I was in my mid-teens and I realised, late at night, that my brother really did hate me. What else did you do after that? Not much really. That was enough fear for any little boy. I've grown stronger and I've faced the cause of my fears. I told my father to f-off that last time he came calling after he started saying horrible things about my Mum to me. That might not seem like much to you, but for a little boy who lived his life in fear and guilt that he wasn't brave enough to get out of bed and defend his family; that was a big show of strength. Even if it was a little bit too late. I have nothing to fear but fear itself. And I do not fear that I am a better father then you ever could have been. I am not scared to say that I am the father that I always wanted. And even through it all, all the reasons for our fear, all the terrible things that happened that we took out on each other, even if it took thirty odd years for it to happen, I can say my brother and I are friends today. I guess it helps that we don't live in the same country ;) Yours faithfully, Michael Thundersbeard. Artist, Writer, Father, Factory Worker. http://www.lifeandothertragedies.com |