The Fear of Being Forgotten

I was speaking with a fellow blogger yesterday about a photograph and quote that he posted. It was a photo of one of my idols, Marilyn Monroe. I told him that I felt her pain. He then asked what emotion(s) do you feel when you look at it. All of a sudden this torrent of words flowed out of me. I was so floored by what I wrote and how I felt, I became exhausted in mind, body and spirit. I then thought more about it. What is my emotion when I look at that picture of Marilyn. It’s a simple photo. She, laying on a bed, reading a book. On thinking ability, no less.

That’s where my fears of inadequacy creep in. I think about not going to college, so I don’t feel smart enough to write well. Speak well. Act right. Be normal. What the fuck is normal anyway? As Salvadore Dali said, I am not strange, I am just not normal. On that thought, why be normal? I’m happy with my angst, my eccentricities, my stupid horse laugh, and my mannish sounding speaking voice.

I have this insatiable need for validation. To be told I’m smart, pretty, funny, loving, etc. I tell you all that I fear nothing, but I do. I fear being forgotten. Of being bi-polar. Of not doing everything that I want to do. Of getting fat again. Of not being enough. Of, of, of, of all of the above and more.

I fear the fact that I may get thousands of likes but that one dislike kills me. Why should I give a shit, really??? I’m good, I’m happy, I’m loving and I’m loved. What more could a silly blonde girl want?

I fear that I’m a narcissist, arrogant, and I fear being alone. I fear that I will drown in my own abyss of self-destruction. Of which I have control of right now, but what about tomorrow? I fear that the words within me will stop. That I won’t be able to find them. I fear that I will be exposed. That you will find out that I’m not what I say I am. That I’m not a sparkly girl. That I’m a moody girl that cuts herself metaphorically with music and the written word.

I don’t say these things to get you all to feel sorry for me. I say them because these feelings are real. My biggest fear is being forgotten. I think it’s why I act the way I do. So you don’t forget me. I’ve said before I’m like a cheap red wine. I’ll show you one hell of a good time, but you’ll feel like shit in the morning when the buzz has worn off.

I don’t want positive reinforcement from this post. I’m just saying what I feel. Bleeding as it were. I want to keep bleeding. I want to hemorrhage. Hemorrhage a fantastic novel, I hope. We’ll see.

I told all of this to my dear friend, the Biker Renaissance Man today. He looked into my eyes and said, you will never be forgotten. You are our Nae. We come to you to share our stories. Our sadness, and our joy, because you love us and you applaud us. You feel everything we feel. He took me in his arms, hugged me and then gave me a fist bump. He said, you will never be forgotten because of what you give us, and that is connection. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t speak. I just let him hold me, and in that hug I knew, I knew I would never, ever have to fear being forgotten.

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29 thoughts on “The Fear of Being Forgotten

  1. Poignantly expressive; you’re blessed to have friends like the Biker Rennaisance Man, and to be able to pour out your feelings and make us feel them without even realising how the words speak to us- atleast to me

  2. Amazing! You are the must humble, honest, BRAVE person I know. This is your gift and it reciprocates healing; writer to reader. And YOU, forgotten?? Impossible!

    • I say what others can’t. I say what others feel. I say it all so they can feel it but not voice it. I am their voice. It is what I do.

      And YOU, I will never, ever forget YOU either.

  3. This felt like it felt amazing to write. Kudos to you for sharing and also for speaking a lot of the same fears I have, as well. Especially the being forgotten…glad I found your blog and thanks for the follow. I look forward to catching up with all of your thoughts. :-)

    • I’m glad that you felt it. I know I sure did when I wrote it. I poured my heart and soul into it. It was cathartic. I have had so many people tell me they have the same fear. That they will be forgotten, that their words will mean nothing, in the end. I think that is why we write, so that we are NOT forgotten. If our words effect even one person in this life. Then we will live on. In some way we will live on. Thanks for reading me honey. I hope you enjoy what you read here. I really do.

  4. in my short time as a blogger ive come to realise that most of us have fears and insecurities behind our outward personas. Maybe that’s because we are mostly writers and that breeds an insecurity, a lack of self-worth. (or does the insecurity lead to being a writer? I cant answer that question).
    i know what you mean about one dislike, or one post that seems to be ignored by readers, the feeling of hurt can be more intense than the justification of a popular post. but that’s who we are.
    I’m glad you were able to find some peace and reassurance in his arms.

    • I thank you so much for your comment my dear. I think we writers are insecure, that’s why we write. We want our readers to understand us. In my real life not many people do “get” me. My immediate family does, of course. But there are others that look at me and wonder what the fuck is the matter with me. There isn’t anything wrong with me. I’m passionate, weird, goofy, funny and I say fuck, a lot. Giggle. I find security here. I find inclusion and solace too. I… Feel… Safe…

      • i find the same thing – my head works in a different way to most (if not all) people i know. i dont understand it myself alot of the time so its not a surprise that others dont either. Plus the public me is not the private me, so how could they know what i keep hidden?
        But blogging allows me to order my thoughts, and has taught me that there are others out there who are misfits in the same way :)
        and yeah, i say fuck faaaaar too much. and bollocks, but then im allowed to, im english!

      • Oh you damn Englishmen. Why do I become so enamored with you all? I think it’s the accent. I really do. I hear it now as I re-read your words.

  5. Thank you for writing this. I love coming to your blog when I’m down. You make me feel less alone, less of a damaged person, less of a failure. You will never be forgotten by me.

  6. Pingback: The Fear of Being Forgotten « Fay Moore: I Want To Be a Writer

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