Dear Mr Fear:

I respect you. I acknowledge you, you who creep up on me and make me see that I'm weak and really scared sometimes-- as much as I don't like to admit it.

But I wonder just how much power and control you actually have over me? I think you just come to visit me when I'm at my lowest, weakest point. You prevent me from thinking clearly. You take away my confidence, my faith in myself and what I believe I can do. You make me doubt.

Why do you hurt me? Or is it that I let you hurt me? I could unleash my hatred on you. But that would be pointless. People say it's normal to be afraid, to be fearful of something. They say, "You wouldn't be human otherwise." "Just don't let fear control you, paralyze you, take over your life," they say-- which I've let you do to me many times before when I was younger.

Then, as I grew older, it got easier and easier to ignore you, blow you off and reason my way out from under your grip. Sure, sometimes it was god-awful tough. But my wits won over. I could see how irrational you were and are. It's just that you have a way of skirting around my armor, finding my underbelly, so to speak.

You try always to sidestep my intellect. Because, of course, you wouldn't stand a chance against me there. What you do is totally underhanded. You strike me when my guard is down-- through my sympathetic channels, straight to the very "heart of darkness" where you take hold of the little boy. You are most unkind. Perhaps? And yet...

I know it's also foolish to deny you. As despised as you are to me, you have been a teacher to me, a harsh one, granted. Yet, you've saved me from myself on more than one occasion. It was you who stopped me from jumping, from taking all those pills, keeping me from getting beaten up (many times over), keeping from getting involved with that nut-job and that one scary bitch and that other one disguised as a sweetheart. Sure, they were pretty, they drew me right in-- right into a trap, that is. But you kept me from falling to my death (quite literally) from all those terrible devices.

O.k., so we have this conflicted relationship. Guess there are two sides to you, too. And guess I'll have to keep fighting you on some accounts because you can be petty-- by turning my thoughts into mush, making me think I can't do something when, honestly, I know I can, making me act foolish at my very worst, turning me inside-out-- irrational.

Tell you what, I won't welcome you, Mr Fear, when all you want to do is bring me down.

I will, however, allow you in when you mean to warn me, to keep me safe.

Well, think that's about all I have to say to you.

Cheers!