Something was missing.
This haunting feeling that something was missing lay over me the whole week. The first inkling that something was strange was when I realized I had a chance of getting that elusive day 5 hefsek! Okay, so maybe it was only day 5 (and not 6) if you don't count the spotting on day 0, but I've always counted this way, and still never gotten a day 5 hefsek taharah before. So I tried anyway, and surprise number two was that it worked!
There was a bit of anxiety over where I'd be going to mikvah (That's a story in itself, which I may post about eventually!) when half way through the week dh uncovered the notice from the local mikvah that it would be closed for repairs.
And that was when I realized. I was perhaps anxious about the hoops I jumped through to figure out how to obtain an appointment (actually making the appointment was the easy part, it was figuring out who to talk to that led me in circles!). I was maybe nervous about the longer drive and timing it so that I arrived on-time. (I can do early and I can do late, but promptness has often been about as elusive for me as that day 5 hefsek.) I was somewhat apprehensive about visiting a mikvah I'd never been to before. But I wasn't the least bit scared.
Now, some of you may be thinking, okay, Desde, this is what, your third post about not being scared of the water? We hear you, you're not scared anymore, get over it, okay? But please understand, being scared of the water has colored my entire life, even before I was observant. It took on additional importance when I first decided that I would be living an Orthodox lifestyle and learned about the mikvah's prominent role in that lifestyle. It gave me panic attacks when I became engaged and started Kallah classes.
It hung over me each time I made a hefsek taharah and started counting the days until my next mikvah visit. I tried not to think about what I was counting toward, trying to instead focus on the reunion with my husband. Each month was a balance of putting off making that appointment so I wouldn't have to think about it, and making it early enough that I didn't have the additional fact of not yet having an appointment to panic about. I forced myself to make the trip to the mikvah. I did my preparations, (actually, I'm surprised that I've never been obsessive-compulsive about the preparations, so that at least I had no excuse besides my fear for not calling myself "ready") and took an extra few minutes to compose myself, searching for something else I hadn't checked, but finding nothing, before calling for the attendant. I then had to compose myself again in the water before each dunk, gathering my courage each time. My fear was so very REAL and so very PRESENT, a constant companion.
I hesitate to say I miss it, but I definitely notice its absence. So I counted the days, without any fear. I (mostly) prepared at home, without any fear. I drove to the mikvah, without any fear. I finished up my preparations there, without any fear. I called for the attendant, made small talk while she checked my hands and feet and picked three million hairs off my back, without any fear. I entered the water, without any fear. I took a moment to compose myself before each dunk... to daven for myself, and others, not to gather courage. And it was a much shallower mikvah than I am used to, so I had to make an extra effort to get all the way under, but I did it without any fear. I did it all without any fear.
And while once I was afraid (ha!) that my mitzvah was somehow diminished through the lack of fear, this time I exulted in my lack of fear. Like a cancer patient in (permanent!) remission who will always be a "survivor," I have survived and surmounted my fear, and while it no longer follows me, it haunts me by its absence, and adds an extra dimension to my observance.