For some time now, I have felt as if I am estranged from my soul.
I just realized...that is scared in a word.
I've written about it, journaled, blogged, hinted about it to friends. Yesterday, I flat out named the problem to a friend, admitting I fear that my memory will not let me do my own taxes this year.
I fear that my memory is fading...fear of dementia, plain and simple.
For the first time, I spelled it all out to a friend who promptly assured me that she has a tax-preparer who'll do mine, no prob. The blessed relief! The pimple on the source was popped. When I've delivered all my papers to him and signed off on it, I can be free of that one source of fear.
I now need to do what I have known I need to do...get tested so that I may make peace with whatever the result is. Upfront and honest: My fear of dementia may prove to be a fact, although it may prove to be my anxiety disorder which was diagnosed over 50 years ago, and I accept comfortably today.
Again, I face the true source of my discontent...I take myself too seriously.
I love it and laugh. Fear is on the backbench right now, and that's close enough to perfect for me right now.
More will be revealed but, in the meantime, I am at peace knowing that God loves me personally, I am safe in his love...and so are you. Even if your name is "Donald J. Trump," so are you.
Thank you.
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