In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Phobia, Shmobia.”

Would it be termed a phobia to have a deep dread for a phenomenon which is very natural to human existence?

I have no other way to express the fear that pools in my stomach and sends me palpitating at the contemplation of the loss of a dear one.

I try to philosophize it away and let it go but sometimes my fertile thoughts take a life of their own and grows into gigantic, fierce proportions when my mind dwells on such occurrence.

I have learnt to pray about it, to suppress it, but the fear remains banked within my bowels and waits for a little trigger to stoke its flames.

My total disregard for creepy crawlies, most especially snakes are far from evolving. I detest them and I hope the verb ‘detest’ is strong enough to express my aversion for snakes.

I would jog barefoot from Limpopo to Timbuktu at the mere thought of coming in contact with one. Please, don’t try to convince me to go for therapy and to get a grip of it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever! NO THANK YOU!

I have a healthy dose of respect for heights and for anything deeper than the swimming pool.

I have recorded a good measure of success in ceasing to worry about the future and the fear of failing.

About the future, I have learnt that tomorrow turns up without my help and my role is to live that day as best as I can.

As for failure, I deserve nothing more than I get, if I don’t learn to try. So, I just keep trying and keep getting better at trying.

It is only by doing that perfection comes.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha