Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
A memory struck me today. A memory of a fear I used to have. I don’t have it anymore. Perhaps I have outgrown it? Perhaps I have accepted it? I don’t really know. The me who had this fear would know, but that’s part and parcel of youth.
This was a fear that I carried with me through much of my early to mid 20s. It would recur occasionally through my late 20s, but now, in my mid 40s, I’ve never even thought of or even remembered it until today.
The fear, I had literal nightmares of this fear. Thoughts of this scenario would penetrate my thoughts in idle moments or times of self-reflection. Today, as this memory returned to me unprompted, I could clearly see myself, a younger, heavier version of myself, walking down a tree-lined street in a city I haven’t lived in for 15 years, having to brace myself because of the fear worming its way into my thoughts as I walked from my office to a grocery store to buy snacks to watch that Saturday afternoon’s football games.
The fear was that I would somehow suffer an injury from which I would completely recover physically. However, the injury would take away my intelligence. And still, however, it would leave me with a full memory of having had intelligence.
It’s an odd memory to have today as I think of the figurative fog I feel like I have been living in recently. How I have to force myself to concentrate on all but the most mundane tasks at work. How it is physically tiring to concentrate on anything remotely complex and interconnected these days.Published in