"Whenever I feel afraid...

I hold my head erect. And whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect, I'm afraid." Those were lyrics to a song from a little wind-up toy radio I had as a kid. The song seemed harmless enough, and I liked the tune well enough, indicated by the fact that I still remember it, but I became too good at whistling a happy tune. I was suspicious of myself, but I continued to hold my head erect and keep on whistling. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?

'All the things I'm thinking but feel like I shouldn't say' is on my mind right now. What if I offend, anger, hurt or worry somebody? It feels like there are so many secrets, and they're looming large.
What kinds of secrets?
Secrets about me.
Things that I secretly enjoy, but don't want anybody to know. Things that I fear, but don't want anybody to see.
Things that I worry about, but don't want anyone to hear.
All of these 'What if?' questions spinning in my head.
"What if that paper crinkling under my bed really isn't the cat this time, but a viscious, spiked armadillo-like creature?"
"What if Donny Sharp refuses to open my milk for me today?"
"What if I forget which bus I ride?"
"What if I wake up too late and miss the bus?"
"What if I fail the history test?"
"What if, now that I'm a graduate student, someone finds out that I'm an imposter, that I'm really just posing as a student/TA, and that I still feel like the same person I was when I was 7? What if they find out that I'm really just me? What if anybody finds out for that matter? That 'me' is just embarassed and ashamed?"
Of what?
"Of feeling sad, lonely, angry, happy, joyous, content, fearful, or ashamed. For not being perfect. For not controlling what I feel. For failing to prevent things that cause me to feel anything too intensely."
If they find out, then what?
"I will be judged and committed to the slammer-"SouLess AnonyMous iMpostER Society" or that I'll be fed to starving wolves or swallowed up in a giant tsunami. Or, worse yet, that I'll have to just keep living and facing these 'what ifs', while nobody ever really knows whatI'm thinking or who I am, including myself. I realize now that I can't keep hiding from myself. The problem now is, where do I start looking?"

I looked under the bed, and it was just the cat. I looked toward Donny to open my milk, and when he refused, I did it myself. I never forgot which bus I rode, but, at times, I wish I had (at least on the way to school). I never woke up too late. I did fail the history test, but I got to take it again. And, so far, nobody has found me to be an imposter.
Maybe keeping these secrets is what's causing me to be so fearful, because, if somebody finds out, it means that I didn't keep the secret well enough. And everyone knows that secrets are meant to be kept hidden. I don't want these secrets anymore. The only time I'm going to hold my head erect in the face of fear is when I'm being charged by a fearsome dog. There's a fine line between keeping your cool while under duress and constantly hiding behind a mask of stoicism.
And then, on the flip side, there's being relentlessly and unmercifully tossed around like a rag doll and pounded against the broken shells and pebbles lining the bottom of the ocean floor, while ingesting volumes of salt water that burns your nose and the back of your throat when the waves are just too big, but you keep on trying to get back out there, because it was so much fun riding the waves earlier that day. Stupidity or determination?
Thanks for a great weekend at the shore, Nancy and Michael. I loved being tossed around by the waves, and there is still sand stuck in the fabric of my bathing suit. I can also still smell the beach in my hair. I don't want to wash it away quite yet.