the life and musings of a kinky slut

On Fear And Not Settling

I am so scared right now. Granted, I live a life full of fears, both big and small, but tonight especially those frights have set upon me.

I suppose I’m writing this so I can get some sleep, or possibly just to say it out loud. Name the demon and it will lose its power, as it were.

Three big fears have sent my mind whirling this evening: school, love, and Hamilton.

I plan to take the MCAT in August. At every turn of my current scholastic adventure, I’ve done well. No, actually I’ve been awesome, with an A earned in every class I’ve taken since I’ve gone back to school. But I can’t shake the feeling of, any day now, the other shoe dropping.

When am I not going to be good enough? When are they going to see that I don’t belong, that I’m not as smart as I portray?

I know this feeling has a name: imposter syndrome. Yet, even though I know all my worries are not rooted in reality, and I do in fact belong here (post-bac quasi-pre med student, busting curves as I go), I’m always waiting for the no. I’m always expecting the no. I lack the confidence to believe in myself, though I keep proving my doubts wrong at every turn.

Currently I’m subscribing to a 50/50 mix of ‘fake it til you make it’ and ‘just keep going and see what happens’ to overcome my fear. Hopefully, with some help from Doc, this will get better.

Sometimes I am so lonely. Sometimes I fear I’ll never get married, never have children. Sometimes I wonder if I ever made a mistake when I broke up with my exes.

And then I remember why I made those decisions. I don’t regret leaving any of my past relationships. I do regret not leaving them earlier.

Too often I am drawn to an archetype which is basically the outline of my father’s traits: handsome, intelligent, relatively successful in his career, and utterly emotionally distant.

Pondering this in my car one day, I wondered if my ideal man was something of a unicorn, fictional and unobtainable. My ideal partner: a black man between 27-35, intelligent, handsome, wants marriage and children, politically and culturally aware, and with a kink or poly awareness or background.

Why do I call this man a unicorn? Because most men by this age, if they want marriage, are already married. Most handsome men are in relationships. This includes my semester crush, a beautiful mixed race guy with geekiness to boot.

Adding in the kink/poly element creates an even smaller subset to chose from, and I feel helpless just thinking about it.

I’ve thought about settling a lot. Maybe kink or poly aren’t necessary, but how do I even approach the topic to explain to someone unfamiliar with BDSM that I actually need that type of connection to feel whole? I’ve thought about relaxing my political views, and then quickly quashed that thought. One conversation with another classmate left me cringing: a few casual mild gay jokes, not understanding the extent of misogyny in his tone, and my frustration of trying to explain bystander intervention to help end rape culture. It just feels like to much work to compromise so much of myself for a life I know I want but not with someone who would inflict small heartaches each day.

In a random moment with my mother, on Mother’s Day, I talked about buying a house on my own and having a child via sperm donation, all after I’ve settled into my medical career, because, for the first time, I thought about a hopeful life for myself that didn’t include an imaginary husband who has yet to appear.

I don’t need a life partner, but fuck I want one.

This past weekend, a few of my friends went up, stayed overnight waiting in the cancellation line, and got tickets to go see the show. I couldn’t come with them because of work.

But, I’m trying again this Tuesday and Wednesday.

What if it happens again? What if once more I have to swallow the bitter pill of sadness and regret? What if I go, only to come back in tears instead of triumph?

Of all my current worries, this by far is the least important (I do have some perspective folks) and, funny enough, the one with the most hope.

Today, during a cartoon marathon with friends (cause we know how to adult right) we planned a group trip to try to see the show. Truth be told, I much prefer that option, and am looking forward to it in July.

However, as with everything I’ve listed, I cannot let my fears stop me. Fear of failure does not mean one should never try. Fear can be a useful tool to save your life, but it can also hold you back from experiences worth living, a life worth having, through happiness and sadness. One cannot know the light without the dark, the yippee without the oh man.

So fuck you, fear. I’m still gonna be me, fraidy cat who does it anyway, scared shitless as I go.

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