Scared 6

[Yury Morris]

Thedoctor at the health center asked me a few questions, then recommended I get an MRI of my brain. She said she had a suspicion that it might be a tumor but wanted to be sure. There was more after that, some attempts to comfort I think, but all I heard was: Brain. Tumor.

The very next day, I called around for MRI prices. They averaged between $1,650 and $3,600. A few places had sliding scales, but the price never slid down quite far enough for my budget. In hindsight, I could have called my mother in Florida and asked for help, but I was twenty-six and had just left home for the first time and really, really wanted to handle things on my own. Nor did I want her stressing any more than she already did.

My wife reminds me to take my medication each week, even though I have an alarm set on my phone. She loves my body, my heart, and my mind. She is happy, and relieved, that I no longer drink excessively. She wants me to take care of myself. She wants me to be healthy. She wants to have babies with me, and she is not afraid.

When my wife sees babies or baby accoutrements, she feels a longing that pulses through her whole body. In a flush of want, she imagines the stretch and tug of her belly. She smells the sweet scalp, and feels the soft hair tickling, the warm wiggle of the tiny body cradled in her arms.

Two years later, in the fall of 2018, after a few failed attempts at getting pregnant, my wife and I took a break from trying. I wanted to remain hopeful, but I felt defeated, an emotion that deepened when, only three months after my endocrinologist gave me a trial off my medication to see if I might be in remission, I began lactating again, and my left breast became infected from a blocked milk duct. The infection gave way to an abscess that required surgery.

To this day, my mother says I was a bad child. Most days I agree, remembering my propensity for lying, stealing, cursing, and bullying. My mama stayed on my ass. The whippings were never a deterrent, only a motivation to lie more and lie better.

I come from a family of alcoholics and addicts, men and women who swallow their pain and drink their sorrows until their stomachs ulcerate and their gums bleed. I come from a family of alcoholics and addicts who drink and use to feel alive, who drink and use until they die.

I used to know how to handle shit like this. Drink and feel fine. Drink and feel confident and unafraid. When I drank, nothing could touch me, not even death. Sober, I think about death more often than feels healthy. I think about making mistakes. I think about changing my mind. I think about being someone else because who I am is not good enough. Then, I hate myself for my thoughts. I hate myself for being tired, for being scared.

When I told my family about the need for a second surgery, they responded as I expected. My father tried to comfort me. My mother and sisters said they were all praying for me. Family and friends asked what they could do, told me to let them know if I needed anything.

I wanted to think about life. I wanted to imagine teaching my daughter to play basketball. I wanted to think about the ways I could give my children the best of who I am in the here and now, which is more important to me than whether or not they have my eyes or my smile.

Start by thinking about your own attitude toward Halloween. When my kids were in elementary school, we made a grave yard in front of our house for Halloween. Every year the ghouls and the skeletons were different, but there was always a large mechanical noise activated spider by the front door.

I think about an 8-year-old client I worked with who was terribly afraid of balloons (because they might burst) and other loud, unexpended sounds. We played with un-inflated balloons, we did a bit of an experiment blowing up different levels of balloons and popping them, and he did extended cognitive behavioral homework with balloons at home. He made tremendous progress and was able to have balloons as a decoration for his August birthday party. With that success, we began to get ready for another event he feared: Halloween.

He had never been out trick or treating before. With his agreement, I brought in a few of my smaller decorations for him to practice with. He was initially so scared we had to go to my car in the parking lot to look at them through the window. Eventually, we had them out and then turned on so he could see how they work, making noise and lighting up as he approached them. Our session was during the daylight, so he and his mom also practiced walking up and down their own street at night, thinking about how different everything looked than in the daytime.

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My biggest advice for new freshmen? Try everything. Even if you think you'll hate it or that you won't be good at it. Try it. Don't miss out on something because someone else told you that you shouldn't. After all, those people aren't the ones paying for you to be here--you are. So get your money's worth.

I want you to imagine this scenario; you just finished moving in. You stand outside your college dorm building and watch Mom and Dad speed away in the car, leaving you alone. All weekend leading up to the first day of college, you are itching with anticipation. "What if I don't make any friends? What if I get lost and completely miss my class? What if, what if, what if?!"

To every soon-to-be college freshman, want to know a secret? All these "what if's" are stopping you from getting the big picture. What is the big picture? College is NOT as scary as it is hyped up to be. How do I know all this? That's even easier; because I've been there.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Abbie Cochrane and I'm a new freshman at Southern Utah University! I'm a Theatre Arts major from Holladay, Utah just outside of Salt Lake City. I'm here to say that for all of you new freshmen feeling scared out of your mind to start preparing for college, I completely get it. I know exactly what it's like to be terrified to start a new life at college. The weeks leading up to college were one of the most stressful times of my life. I couldn't sleep, barely ate, and I was anxious. All. The. Time. That is, until I actually got here. Now I've come to realize that college isn't so scary, and that it's all about what you make of it.

In the days leading up to your big move and the first day of class, remember to breathe every once in a while. No need to get anxious, because you've started a new school before! Think about how scared you were going into middle school or high school. Then think about how you made it through all of that. You graduated, you got into college, and now you're on your way. You've done everything you need to. Inhale. Exhale. You got this.

Pick a day of the week when you can clean your dorm, do your laundry, check your P.O. Box (if you have one), and pick up groceries. These don't all have to be done on the same day, but it's nice to have a set plan for what needs to be done and when. Maybe make a list in your phone of groceries you need to buy or set a weekly reminder in your calendar so you know when you need to deep-clean your bathroom. Collaborate with your roommates so that the work can get done quicker.

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