Deepest darkest read the prompt at Sunday Scribblings. I knew the answer to the question even before I finished reading it.
For as long as I can remember, my deepest darkest fear was that I was not worthy of love. My grandmother used to say that there was a lid for every pot but growing up I often felt that wasn't true for me. I hoped that there was lid for me but I didn't quite believe that there would be. As an adult I came to feel that my deepest darkest fear was really a manifestation of figuring out who I am and being okay with being gay. Years of therapy were helpful in this regard. And for the nine years that I was with Lisa I was persuaded that my fear was unfounded.
For nine years I felt worthy of love and then suddenly, again, I feel unworthy. I am a lid without a pot. Or a pot without a lid. I keep wondering if I am somehow a broken person. The rational part of me tells me that I'm human, but not broken. I have family and friends who love me; my son loves me. I am not alone in this world, not by a long shot. But I have never quite loved another person as I loved Lisa. And thus I have never quite hurt like I have hurt since she left. And though I know that I should, I can't quite dismiss the fear that she was right to leave me; that I wasn't worthy of being loved by her. And so my deepest darkest fear has returned like an old and unwelcome acquaintance in the deepest darkest parts of my thoughts.
I fought off the demon once before and I like to think that I can fight it off again. Really, I have no choice. But sometimes I still feel like that 10 year old who let herself into the quiet empty house after school. She worried that no one could love her. And 30 years later I worry too.