Dear Fear,

I see you. I always have, but since my daughter was born, you’ve been a lot less subtle about pushing your way into my head.

A long time ago, you told me that with my own poor mental health, I would be just like my own abusive mother. I believed you for the longest time and thought the only way to stop you was to never become a mother. It took a long time to realize that letting you control my life like that was the only way to guarantee you would always win.

Now, I have a person who makes me want to be better and gives me faith that I can break the cycle. I have my daughter now, but with her I only won the first battle and not the war.

You still show up like a stalker in the night. I see you in my lifeless, tired eyes in the mirror. In the shrillness of my voice when I yell at my crying baby, I hear you. When I have to put my baby down and walk away during a tantrum, I feel you in the tension of my muscles. You whisper, “See, I told you. You should never have become a mother. Now you are just like her.” And for a second, I believe you. I believe that one day, I will hurt her. That one day, I will see fear in her eyes when she looks at me. That I will be the reason her spark fades.

But you’re wrong. I am not my mother. I make mistakes and I am growing. Breaking a cycle does not mean I will be a perfect mom every time. What separates me from my mother is that I am seeking help. I know that my actions and choices are not okay. I want better for my baby.

Fear, I’m not saying you are a bad thing. You remind me to keep trying to improve. But you will never win because I will not let you keep me from loving motherhood and enjoying every chaotic second.

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