"this only happens to other people"

One of my two best friends has just given birth to the most beautiful baby I have laid eyes on (msA), and I couldn’t possibly be happier that they’re both well and healthy, alhamdulilah. Unfortunately however, I am trapped between happiness and fear, so I thought the only way I would enjoy that happiness is to babble a bit about my fear despite how sick I am of all the whining on my blog.

Those who know me know I am more of an optimist, those who know me well, know about the cynical pessimist who lurks shamefully in the shadows.

The pessimist is fed by worries and fears, by worst case scenarios that jump before my eyes when I hear or see something to my disliking. Luckily, the optimist takes good care of those horrible visions by confirming in a tone as soothing as possible “this only happens to other people”. Even when part of the problem had already started taking its toll on me, I hear my optimist self whispering “it will be ok”, “this too shall pass”, and sometimes when it’s a bit too tough, I get more in touch with my half-abandoned faith and hear phrases like “en ma3 al 3usr yusr” and “everything happens for a reason”

Needless to say, I have daily visions of dark nature that I choose to block for my own well being, most of which have to do with losing a loved one. My self-comforting strategy always worked.The one single time it did not work was when my x’s father died and I started having visions of losing my own father. Back then I was in my 6th month of first pregnancy and “hormonal” was the least to describe me. I used to spend nights crying so hard and praying it would never happen.

The wiser post-pregnancy and labor version of me knows that one day that horrible day will come; my optimist self helps me face that fact using the above strategy in addition to loads of denial.

Lately, a couple of incidents happened (including a huge increase in my father’s sugar level), which affected my defense mechanism. And because I am emotionally crippled (although it barely ever shows on my blog), I hid my worrying from my family and kept telling everyone who’s concerned about my father’s health that it was not alarming given how abusive my father’s eating habits were becoming lately. I kept saying it was ok and that it was nothing a good, well-balanced diet would not take care of.

Only I’m scared to death. Scared to the extent that I wish I could die right now before any of my fears would come true. I asked my dad how it went in my fakest casual tone and I hated his answer. I hate how vague his answer is. I hate that he’s so depressed over being sick that it could negatively affect his health even more. I hate how I can’t sit next to him on the couch and give him a chocolate bite because I am too freakin’ worried. I hate how he has become so silent because I know he’s worried too, even if it was not really that big a thing to worry about; I know my dad worries, I got it from him. I want to yell at him and tell him to cheer up already, that his sugar levels are decreasing and that he will be ok, he must be ok… because those things only happen to other people, to other fathers, not him.

Baba, please cheer up ba2a, balash nakad, 3ashan khater el etneen el mossagal khatar elly beykhalook ted7ak le7ad ma weshak ye7mar we teshra2!