I Am Scared
- 02
- 09
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On Friday morning, I boarded my flight to Chicago. Right foot first. Always. It was a big plane. And far from full. Clutching a vast coffee and a stack of tabloids and an orange for later, I made my way to the back. I waited and waited. But no one came. I had my own row. I was thrilled to be alone. To stretch out.
I watched the safety demonstration on the little television that popped out from the ceiling. And when it was our turn, we took off. I put my feet up. I looked out the window. The captain told us facts I didn’t absorb; about the flying conditions, the miles we would travel, the weather at our destination. Politely, he thanked us in advance for our business.
And there, all alone in seat 25C, I felt foolish for having been so worried. About leaving home. About flying. About everything. I told myself it was so silly to worry. That, patently, all would be fine.
But then. The plane started to shake. Hard. And it didn’t stop. When the plane started to tumble around, my mind went rogue, darting straight to the things that mattered. I thought of family. Of the people I love. And need.
And I thought of writing. I thought of that too.
Family. Writing. This is my life.
But mostly, I thought about how scared I was. Truly scared. That those moments might have been my last. And so. Not knowing how to handle my fear, I reached for my laptop. I pried it open. And I began to write, fingers flying, palms sweaty, mind racing, body quaking.
And this is what I wrote. Word for word. I feel strongly about not editing these words.
I think I am having an epiphany. Right here. Right now.
I am in the sky. Enveloped in thick, white clouds. They look pretty. They seem friendly. But they are not so. They are dense and drifting.
They are making me question everything.
A man, the same man, keeps coming on the loudspeaker. The pilot. I have never met this man. And yet I trust him. With my life. With our landing. His voice is gruff. His words, like the clouds, are cruel and choppy. He does not fool around. He makes no promises. He tells us to fasten our seat belts.
A chorus of clicks. People do as told. As if inserting metal into metal will really make a difference.
I sit here. All alone. Impossibly surrounded. A young man across the aisle snores. A little girl in pink dances and waves a croissant. People sip drinks and read books.
But I just sit here. Shaking.
Now that little girl screams. Her mother wrestles with her. Reasons with her. And maybe her ears hurt. And maybe she is scared. Her screams don’t bother me. They make sense to me.
Once upon a time, we were allowed to be scared.
It’s just turbulence, I tell myself as the engine hums because no one else is here to tell me this. It’s just turbulence.
I chide myself for being so scared. This is normal. It will pass. There will be smooth skies. This shaking will stop.
But right now? This doesn’t feel normal. This doesn’t feel okay. Reason and statistics mean nothing. Right here. Right now. I am scared to death.
That means something.
Life is a flight. We are on it together. We are in it alone.
We do not know when we will land. Or how.
We should allow ourselves to be scared when life’s skies shake us and stir us. We should allow ourselves to be scared when the blue fades and whiteness washes over us. When everything seems to be giving way to nothing.
We should allow ourselves to be scared when we feel scared.
I am going to start now.
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Wow. Reading this now, these words seem so, well, dramatic. And they are. Reading this now, it is hard for me to remember, to grasp, the fear that gripped me just a few days ago. But it did grip me.
The good news is that the vast vast majority of the time, I am not scared. Not like this at least.
But some of the time, I am.
I am scared of change. I am scared of standing still. I am scared of cancer. I am scared of death. I am scared of failure. I am scared of success. I am scared of aging. I am scared of being a bad parent. I am scared of closing doors. I am scared of rough skies. I am scared of being forgotten. I am scared of being scared.
I am scared of the unknown. I am scared of the known.
I am scared of many things.
It is okay to be scared. It is human to be scared.
I might have been all alone in Row 25 of that one plane, but I am not alone in this. We are all scared. (Yes, even you.)
But living in this world, I often get the sense that it is not okay to be scared. In this world, we are taught from a young age to banish our fears, to put up a front, to hold it together, to stifle our screams.
I just realized something. Just now. Something I’ve been doing (or not doing) without really realizing it. When Toddler cries and tells me she is scared of something, I don’t tell her that there is nothing to be scared of. No. Instead, I say something a bit different. I tell her that I understand that she is scared, that I know what it feels like, and that she is okay. It’s a small change to the parental script from which so many of us unconsciously read. A nuance I’m sure she doesn’t notice, but one I do. Now.
Ultimately, it might not be okay to be scared in this big, bad world. But here? In this odd little corner? On this odd little blog? Here, it is okay for me to be scared. Here, it is okay for me to explore the landscape of my fear. And so I will. Here, I will not apologize for being scared of the dark. And of the light. Of little things. And big. Of a hovering and happy past, of the inscrutable skies of present moment. Of my bright and beckoning future.
Here’s what I think: Life is turbulent. And I will ride it out because I, like you, have no choice. Because, at bottom, it’s a privilege to take this flight. But I refuse to pretend that the rough spots don’t exist.
Because they do.
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What are you scared of? Do you find yourself stifling your own fears or denying they exist? Do you think women are permitted to display their fears more than men are? Do you think that we bloggers blog (and we writers write, etc) because in so doing we forge a safe space in which we can explore – and affirm – our own fears, and flaws, and hopes, and dreams? How do you handle literal and metaphorical turbulence?
A poignant reminder – both of the fact that we ought to surrender to the fear of life’s turbulence, and of the fact that though we feel totally alone and isolated, in many meaningful ways we are not. Thank you for sharing this – I feel scared a lot, and sometimes I am scared of the fact that I am scared. Welcome to the rathole of my brain!
Thanks for sitting next to me during the turbulence, too: I’m aware of what a gift that is.
Lindsey – I can’t remember where I read this, but someone said that the things that feel the most personal, and lonely even, are in fact the most universal. In penning this post, and in publishing it, I experienced fear. Fear that I am bizarre for feeling threatened by the world and its unknowns from time to time. Fear that I over-think things (and I do), that I see conflict that is not there, that I stir up existential tumult and turbulence where there is none. But I wrote these words and published them because I knew that they would be digested and recognized. I knew that others felt this fear too. And so as your comment came in, and now some others, I sat here nodding, and thankful for this affirmation that we are indeed all on this flight together.
I’m terrified of flying. I do it, for holidays and so on, but I hate it because I’m not in control, there’s nothing I can do apart from watch out the window in case I spot a problem before the pilots do…
Mo – it sounds like you and I have a similar distaste for flying. I am not petrified of it and do it when necessary, but when I do, I am far from comfortable. I am trying to temper this fear now that I have kids, but it is hard. And I am not sure what exactly I dislike so much about flying either. I have a hunch that it has something to do with the utter lack of control to which you allude in your comment. It is terrible to be aware of such a void in agency and further be aware that there is nothing we can do to achieve control until we are grounded once again.
(You also raise an interesting question about visibility; Should we look out that proverbial window, or no? Should we attempt to discern the problems that litter life’s path? Which approach makes for a happier existence?)
I’m afraid of falling (in a literal, rather than metaphorical, sense). Mostly, it’s the jarring stop at the end of the falling, and the physical pain that usually accompanies that stop. This has, sadly, encouraged me to avoid certain activities in which I suspect a fall to be likely (rollerblading / ice skating, that sort of thing). But I never understood how that airplane seat belt was really supposed to do any good when you’re falling from five miles up.
I also fear . . . how to word? . . . relying on others in public, if that makes any sense. For instance, I have no problem singing in public, because I know I will do a good job, but don’t ask me to direct a choir, because I can’t make others learn the music or pay attention when I’m directing, and I always worry that their (potential) bad job will either reflect badly on me or will make me question my own skills–did I expect too much, pick something too hard? Was I not clear enough in my instructions? etc. . . . That feels really selfish, for some reason.
Peyton – Fascinating how you describe both of these fears. And it is not just the essence of the fears themselves, but the ways in which they inform your life and how you live it. Fear of falling? Taken to the extreme, this could literally leave us standing still – metaphorically and literally. And fear of reliance on others? This is rich territory. How do we learn to depend on others? How do we assure ourselves that they will come through and support us? I don’t think this fear sounds selfish at all. Rather, it sounds very normal to me. How do we teach ourselves to trust others as we navigate our lives?
Especially as related to the latter issue of reliance on others, sometimes you really just have to put on the Big Girl Panties and do it, whether the trust is there or not. I’m not yet sure if trust will grow from continual exposure, or if my knees will always shake until the moment is over and I can go back to hide in my safe corner of the universe. Some days/weeks/months, the BGPs get a lot more use than others, but at the very least, I think there will be some miniscule amount of personal growth from forcing myself through the experience (at least, I hope). Not saying that we shouldn’t acknowledge the fear, but admittedly, we can’t let it completely cripple us.
(And, for the fear of falling, I’ve found as I’ve gotten older that it can add a bit of a thrill to some things–that’s what makes roller coasters fun for me, and part of why I like to fly, I suspect. Though ultimately, I find, the reason I’m willing to give in to those and not to rollerblading is that the fall, or lack thereof, is not in my control. I don’t know if, in these cases, I trust someone else more than myself, or if I just prefer having someone else to blame if it all goes wrong . . . )
Peyton – Thanks for continuing this great conversation. I love the idea of Big Girl Panties. I think I might have to steal it! If that’s okay? And if it doesn’t go over so well here on ILI, you can blame me. Deal?
Go for it!
during take-off and landing, i pray. and i’m not a “prayerful” person. but i pray then. i revert back to my childhood days in catholic school and recite the hail mary until the pilot comes on to say “we have reached 10,000 feet” or to say “welcome to your destination.”
and i suppose i do this, pray during take-off and landing, revert back to what i was taught to do as a child when i was scared. to pray.
i’m literally giggling out loud as i write this because it’s a realization to me just now as i comment on your vulnerable post.
thanks for reminding us that it’s ok to be scared, be vulnerable, even think that the boogy man may be under our bed.
i know i’ll continue to recite my hail marys during take-off and landing. it’s just what i do.
and my husband is a pilot. go figure.
Nic – I am thrilled to have triggered a realization and its concomitant giggles. I do think it’s interesting that when faced with fear as an adult, we often revert back to our childhood patterns. I started doing the right foot first thing when I was much younger and I cross my fingers as we take off and land every time.
I also find it fascinating that you experience this fear vis-a-vis aspects of flying when your husband is a pilot. For me, this is very meaningful insofar as it is prime evidence of the fact that these things, these experiences of fear have little to do with knowledge and reason. I am sure your husband has given you all the stats of aviation safety? And yet. Here you are, reciting Hail Marys. I think this is wonderful. And real. We are human. We get scared. And that is okay.
Wow. You are speaking right to me this morning. You are right, we are not allowed to be scared anymore. Or unsure. Or unconfident. Or to make mistakes. Or to start over.
I felt so much pressure to get everything right on the first damn go that I took a (somewhat) safe route that I thought was the RIGHT way to go. The way I was SUPPOSED to go.
Now? Now as I pursue this vast unknown I am so scared. Fear is with me everyday, in a way that it wasn’t before. But you know what else is with me? Happiness. Joy. Excitement.
So I think the trade off is worth it.
Rebecca – I am so thrilled that my words hit you. I remember being in college and talking to a friend and saying, “You know what? We are young. We are expected to make mistakes, so let’s make some mistakes!” I can’t remember what the conversation was in reference to – academics, or romance, or likely both, but I look back and smile. Because I was right. But now? We are expected to be prudent and safe and strong. To tread cautiously and minimize emotion. I think that this is a shame. Because, as I said above, we still experience fear – all the time and of so many things. And I think that allowing ourselves to feel our own vulnerability – whether via art, or just in life – allows us to experience some of the other beauties you mention (Happiness, Joy, Excitement.)
Beautiful, terrifying, honest post. Thank you. It was an honor to read your raw words, etched at the moment of your fear. And you’re right: we’re ALL scared.
Amy – Thank you. Raw is right. That’s exactly how I felt up there in the sky, buoyed by inscrutable clouds. Raw. I think we should all allow ourselves to be raw – and write raw – from time to time. Editing and polishing and cooking – these things have their place, but sometimes we should go the raw route. Thanks for your affirmation that I am not alone in being scared from time to time.
some hide it more than others -
some deny it –
some don’t go there -
what we think and do matters -
what you write makes a difference -
rough spots exist –
some rough spots make great memories -
others should be written up and filed
hugs – it’s Valentine’s Day week –
love one people
Larry – Yes, the rough spots do exist and it is up to us to acknowledge them or (try to) ignore them. I am biased, but I think we do ourselves (and our creativity) a great disservice by failing to recognize the moments of turbulence in our own life. I think these moments, while undeniably hard to weather as they are happening, turn out to be very revealing and instructive. So, I say let’s go there…
Just this past weekend I had a conversation with my husband around this very topic of fear. He thinks I am too easily fearful, and he doesn’t want our son to adopt a default position of fear by observation. While I believe there is merit in that concern, I think a little dose of fear goes a long way to averting disaster.
Fear, in some permutation, plays a role in my decision to wear my seat belt, exercise, look both ways before crossing a street, take a vitamin, read books, eat a balanced diet, and write my blog. Fear is a big motivator and we should be thankful for its capacity as such.
Gale – I agree with you that there is something immensely fruitful about fear. It steers us, it encourages us to do things that are good for us. But I think you and I probably agree that fear must be circumscribed and not allowed to spin out of control. Letting fear guide us at every turn will make for a miserable and damp existence. But the big question is how much fear is appropriate to nurture and tolerate? Where do we draw that good old line?
You also raise a very important and related question, namely how do we raise our children to be strong, to respect fear, but not be consumed by it? Should we tailor our own outlooks and actions with the knowledge that our children are always watching us and looking to us as an example? I don’t pretend to know the answer to this biggie, but I think about it a fair bit. For instance, should I, a mother of two tiny girls, be writing a blog post about my own resident fears when I know my girls will be able to one day read it?
Thank you for writing this. You’re so right. It’s ok to be scared and it’s ok to let others know that we’re scared. It’s called “human”.
It still is a battle sometimes to accept this feeling, because it makes us vulnerable.
San – You are welcome. Why is it so hard for us to be human sometimes? Why the fixation on robotic perfection, on camouflaging our flaws and our fears? Indeed it is a battle and one that will rage on, I imagine. Speaking of fear, why are we so afraid of being – or seeming – vulnerable? A very wise friend recently asked me what word I thought of when she said “vulnerable” and my word was “strength.” I think it takes strength and conviction to be vulnerable, to be open, to be who we are.
Fear is an interesting topic for me. I write about it quite a bit. If you’ll forgive me, my posts A Father’s Burden and A Father Describes Parenting cover my fear and that of some of my fellow fathers.
Our fears aren’t so much about flying (although I am not a fan) but of failing our children and our personal expectations. It is wondering how to follow our dreams without placing our families at risk. The boys and I discuss these things often.
For me the biggest fear really isn’t of dying but of letting the kids down. I find it hard sometimes to try and strike that balance that I am constantly seeking.
Jack – please don’t apologize for pasting your links here. I am thankful to have you point the way to your writing on this important topic and I trust others are as well. The fears you talk about are powerfully present in my life as well. At bottom, the question (for me) is how do we carve a fulfilling existence for ourselves while also nurturing happy and healthy children? How do we pursue personal happiness while making sure that we are supporting and satisfying the needs of our families and kids? I don’t pretend to know the answers, but these are indeed critical questions and thank you for highlighting them.
About five years ago there was an article that I blogged about called “Does Having Children Prevent An Active Sex Life.”
As I recall it received a lot of attention. Some of that was because it was written by a mother who wrote that she was the only mother in the play group who was still having sex. The others were too exhausted from dealing with kids.
Anyway, the first time I posted it that piece received 50 comments or so in which parents argued about responsibilities and where our personal satisfaction lies in relationship to our children.
It is a common topic with a number of my friends who are thinking about splitting up. They don’t want to be married anymore but they don’t want to upset the children.
There is no easy answer, but I have to agree that I wonder how much personal happiness needs to be subjugated because of the kids. Where is that line and how do you balance it.
Jack – these questions are so interesting and so important. How do we begin to balance personal happiness with the well-being of our kids and family? What happens when and if these two things diverge? I must hunt down that article you mention. It sounds fascinating and very topical frankly. I might have to blog about it myself. Then again, I am pretty prude here chez ILI
It was written by Ayelet Waldman and I used it twice. The first time I was using Haloscan for comments. Unfortunately when I stopped using it I lost a ton of comments including those on that post.
I think that this is one of those critical things in a marriage. It probably comes as no surprise that many of my male friends are irritated by how the arrival of children killed their sex lives.
It might be time to write about this again and see if the perspectives have changed. Hmm…
My father is a mathematician whose career focused on studying risk, especially as it relates to mortality. He is an expert on the rationality and irrationality of fear, but still he chooses never to fly. I always think of him whenever fear grips me in spite of evidence suggesting that everything will be okay.
Your post made me think of him, and of my older son. I love the way in which you comfort your daughter when she is afraid. I think it is right to be able to feel scared. Fear is part of the package of living, isn’t it? – and without fear, how would we ever feel its glorious opposite: relief?
Kristen – Fear is indeed part of the package, I think. So fascinating that your father’s profession was to assess risk and more so, that he chose not to fly. I am just curious (because my mother doesn’t fly) whether his decision not to fly affected you and your decisions? I also agree with your point that without fear, we would not feel the sweetness of relief and comfort. I think about this often, namely contrasts – how there is a inherent purpose in the darkness, namely to make the brightness that much brighter.
Hi Aidan – My father’s decision not to fly did not affect my own feelings about flying; although I fear many, many things, I am a pretty comfortable flyer. However, I do think that I picked up on many of my parents’ neuroses and that fear is an emotion that can be contagious. I suppose the trick is to instill caution and an acceptance of fear without making our kids afraid of everything. Oh, this parenting business isn’t so easy, is it?
This parenting thing? A piece of cake. And by cake I mean layer cake where the layers are endless and the flavors are impossible. Ooh. Might have to blog about that one. You know how I love me a yummy metaphor
I think it’s great you don’t instinctively tell Toddler “Don’t be afraid”. Because some fear is good. It lets you know there is risk, consequence, or potential danger.
But as for what I’m scared of… I’m scared of losing my job. Not that anyone has even implied the possibility, but it would be devestating to no longer contribute. And ultimately, I am scared of spiders.
Jessica – I agree with you that some fear is good. But the question, the impossible question, is how much? And do we have control over the amount and breeds of fear we experience?
I think it makes perfect sense in this world and this economy that you fear losing your job. I have no doubt that many of my readers will commiserate with this. I also think there is something deeper and more profound to this fear, namely the fear of not pulling one’s weight, contributing actually or figuratively to a life and marriage. I have no doubt that all of us experience this fear.
And so funny about spiders because I am about fifty or so pages into another novel where spiders play a big role! Stay tuned…
Perhaps our fears actually incite bravery? I find myself nearly asphyxiated when I must confront those fears that haunt my dreams. Yes, my breathing becomes shallow, my heart starts to race, and I wonder when I will take my last breath.
Yet with these experiences, I have found bravery that I once thought lost. I have become a stronger person.
Amber – This comment really strikes me and adds another dimension to this conversation. I do think there is an important relationship between fear and bravery. After all, how can we be brave if there is nothing to fear, no demons to face down? I think that we do gain strength and stature by confronting our fears, by riding the pockets of turbulence that are unavoidable in life. Alas, there is something compelling about fear itself, namely that by addressing it, by mining its essence for lessons, we are becoming stronger, sturdier souls.
Wow. This speaks volumes to me! I agree too. Life IS turbulent. It’s ok to be scared. I need to remember this when dealing with my kids….to tell them instead of don’t be scared that it’s ok to be scared. And be there for them when they are.
Becky – I am thrilled this post speaks to you because that underscores that I am not alone in feeling fear from time to time. It’s interesting because reading your comment about your kids made me realize something I hadn’t considered when writing my original post. That something? That in comforting our kids without telling them not to be afraid, we are really making ourselves closer to them. In doing this, we are acknowledging the very humanity we share, rather than drawing arbitrary lines based on chronological age. Obviously, there are many topics that are not appropriate for young kids, but I do think it is okay, if not imperative, to explore with our kids the very universal human emotions and experiences that do affect them even though they are younger.
Is it okay to be this scared? Genuine question. Because I’ve always been the biggest coward, the biggest scaredy-cat, and I *hate* this about myself.
What builds resilience? Fortitude?
What is it that makes my older daughter leap into any new situation, unbridled, while my younger hangs back?
To answer your question, although you probably knew the answer…I am scared of everything.
Kitch – My guess is that you and I are quite similar on this front. I think that those of us who tend to think deeply about things, to turn them over in our heads ad nauseum, also tend to see all the things that might threaten us. You ask an important, if unanswerable, question that snakes through many of the comments today, namely how much fear is too much fear? And I don’t know. I don’t know how we can or if we can control the things we fear. I have no idea, but I would imagine that facing our fears, exploring them, makes us more resilient and builds a baseline of fortitude? I hope so because that is what I am doing right here – facing my fears by writing about them. And so are you.
“Once upon a time, we were allowed to be scared.” When I read this line I started nodding in agreement. What an amazing, brilliant line. When did that once upon a time end? I feel so very far away from that moment now.
Jane – Now that is a brilliant question: “When did once upon a time end?” And I have no clue. For me, this reminds me of a question I asked here a while back, namely “When does childhood expire?” And I don’t pretend to know the answer to this question either. But what strikes me about both questions, and haunts me frankly, is that I think these ends come and go without our notice? I think we wake up one day and realize that we are expected to be adults, to be strong and stoic, to be responsible. I hate this.
Yes. Rough spots exist. At times they are rougher and bigger than we want to acknowledge. At times I think we can just wish them away. But mostly I think that there is nothing wrong with being scared they exist, scared to confront them, and scared to march on and move past.
The successes are too sweet to wither with the fear. I know your own life must a be such a wonderful reminder of this right now as you prepare for the launch of your book. I know that would scare the s**t outta me!
Sarah – Yes, I think there are indeed many ways to acknowledge (and not acknowledge) the rough spots in life’s sky. Your comment illuminates an interesting nuance to this conversation, namely that it is not just the turbulence itself that we must weather and work through, but the mere fact of turbulence, that it will occur. How do we go about our days knowing that tough times inevitably lie ahead? This is a tough one.
And, yes, it would be a big shame if we let fear diminish the successes and the joys. I do not pretend to know how to keep fear at bay, but I do know that the presence of fear, the fact of uncertainty, renders those successes and those joys even sweeter when they do occur. As for the book? Three months! And I am thrilled and beyond scared.
Aidan,
I generally just lurk here, since I don’t know you. But I do enjoy your blog. But this post hits home with me, since I share many of your fears. It’s hard for me to admit this, since I fly a lot and travel overseas a lot. But it frightens me. Always has.
I always felt like a coward for being so afraid. Then one day, someone told me something that I’ll never forget.
He said that doing something IN SPITE of being afraid doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you incredibly brave. Cowards give in to fear.
I’ve always remembered that. We are not cowards; we are brave.
I’m flying to Mexico in a week, with my 19-year-old son. It’s for a mission trip I do every year. Oh, and I touch the side of the plane when boarding. I always have.
Thanks for the post.
Terry
Terry – Thank you so much for making the decision to comment today. I think you are right; doing things in spite of our fears does make us brave. Amber makes a similar point above, namely that identifying and wading through our fears reminds us of how brave we can be. I love that you touch the side of the plane as you are boarding. This makes me feel a little less silly for all of my superstitious behaviors
I hope that you have safe travels and a wonderful trip with your son. And that you continue to comment here; your words are wonderful additions to this good conversation.
Wow, Aidan, this is great. I love that you put the unedited words there for us to see. I can so relate to this. I am scared, often. I hate it, though. I admit that. I struggle with it. I always feel like I shouldn’t be scared. It’s not even that I was taught it at some point. It’s that my fear affects my life. It impedes my growth, sometimes, and it almost always affects my happiness. I worry. I am scared. And I wish I weren’t. And I really, really wish my son weren’t like me…easily scared and intimidated. It just makes life harder. I think.
Liz – I realize in reading your comment and so many others that I am far from alone in feeling periodic fear. A curious further question is how we feel about the fact of being afraid? Do we curse it? Do we celebrate it for keeping us safe? Do we do a bit of both? I agree with you that fear is unfortunate to the extent that it hampers our life, and keeps us from doing what we want to do. But what do we do about the fear we feel? Do we try to distract ourselves from it? Displace it with artificial or actual courage? I don’t pretend to know. What I do know is that your anxiety over who your son becoming is universal. All of us who have children worry – consciously or no – about how we are shaping (and not shaping) our little creatures. And I am sure that if you really thought about it, you would be so pleased that your son is like you.
As for fear making life harder… I am not sure. I think on some level, fear guides us, keeps us within limits. I don’t know, but this is another interesting inquiry.
This week, it’s never been more evident to me just how turbulent and fragile life is. More now than ever, I’ve become friends with places I fear the most. Like you, I travelled thousands of miles to be near a precious sister and her family; cradled a nephew who lives as a walking miracle.
Being awake, aware and ‘in the moment’ is all we can ask for. Fear and uncertainty give birth to understanding and wisdom, at last. Thanks for putting words to the feelings- you have a hearty nod from this corner.
Titanium – I have been thinking a lot about you and your nephew and your family recently and I encourage my readers to visit your blog and learn about the miracle of your recent days. I could not agree more that fear and uncertainty – and, hey, insecurities – are fertile things. From them, we can harvest understanding and wisdom and self-awareness.
I am so happy to know that you also made a trip to see a sister recently. And I hope that your nephew continues to heal. And that you do too.
Hmmmm, this is interesting. I have been sitting here for a few minutes trying to think about what things instill fear in me. I don’t mind flying, I am not afraid of dying, I am not afraid of losing my job (because it would be freeing), I am not afraid of losing my house . . .
I am afraid of dissapointing people, I am afraid of not living up to everyone’s expectations, I am afraid of my flaws, even though I don’t think I could accurately tell you what they are. I am afraid of being fat. I am afraid of . . .
This is actually a hard exercise for me as I don’t often feel afraid, or at least cannot remember feeling fear in a meaningful way recently. I wonder why? I certainly am not so confident that I think I am invincible or anything of that nature. Very curious. Especially because I believe fear is one of the ways we inherently protect ourselves. As someone said, it makes us wear our seatbelt, look both ways without crossing the street, etc. But is there subconscious fear? Because I don’t buckle my seatbelt every day because I am afraid of being hurt in an accident. At least I don’t consciously sit there and think that. So what delineates conscious fear with unconscious fear. Is subconscious fear actually fear???
Niki – I am so glad you chimed in. Particularly because you seem to offer a unique voice. I think it is so interesting, and enviable, that you do not experience fear too often, or at least as often as some of us. I do think there is probably something to your idea of subconscious fear though. It could be that for you, and for others, fear is there, but operates on a deeper level of which you are not consciously aware. I think that even for those of us who do find ourselves stuck in moments of fear, we probably experience this other breed of fear as well.
To me, it is fascinating that so many of your fears (and so many of all of ours, I imagine) are hinged on the perception of others. I think so much of our emotional existence, for better or worse, is tangled up in how other people see us.
Or, how we perceive how others perceive us. I imagine that if you asked someone what they thought of me and then asked me what I thought they thought of me, you would get different answers. I can think of several examples where that has happened actually.
And I also wonder whether we experience different manifestations of fear depending on our own ability to conquer them, even in the short term (i.e., getting on the plane even when you are afraid). Is it our own mind only allowing us to fear what we know we can actually handle? Fear keeps us alert, keeps us on our toes and as you pointed out, makes us realize what we truly care about. Have I not gotten to the point where I am mentally mature enough or mentally capable of confronting my fears on a regular basis so my mind tucks them away for me? It’s a very interesting thought.
I’m scared a lot of the time as well. The trick is to embrace it and use it in a productive manner… as silly as that sounds. It’s hard though… I feel like there’s so much in the big wide scary world that can happen. So I cling to my babies when I can, and if I’m alone I cling to myself… close my eyes and chant or something to get through the moments.
Loved the rawness of this Aidan. Just lovely.
Corinne – I find myself particularly struck by the idea of clinging to ourselves… There is something amazing about this. And so true. I wonder if we bloggers blog as a way of clinging to self in an overwhelming (and tumultuous) sea of other, of exploring our own hopes and fears? Isn’t it remarkable how there are moments in life that we wish wouldn’t pass and those that can’t flee fast enough?
Yes it’s true that in the most deeply personal we reach the universal. Aidan, you always write very well, but in this post I felt a virtual breakthrough—I felt close to you reading this.
Of course I can relate to fear—to dread on a plane, on a boat, trapped under a dock and nearly drowning, to finding out my best friend had been killed when I was fourteen, to being beaten up and knocked unconscious in a restaurant parking lot, to being threatened with death by a gang-banger I was supposed to be helping, to being in the ICU with a heart problem when I was 26… and to bearing witness to countless trauma as a psychologist… until I too had some sort of Neitzsche-infused series of epiphanies and started to just be real.
The fear is now like a trusted guard dog, I love it and it loves me and it doesn’t mess with me so much because we both know that we rise and crash together, alone on the ego-plane but united with you and everyone else on the global plane.
As Jung says, that which we cannot be conscious of materializes and meets us as our fate. In my quasi-magical view of the world, you protect and bless yourself and your family and all those you care about by being conscious of your fear… and then finding the courage, as you do, to love, to express, to care and to keep it real.
Namaste
Thank you for this. Fear as trusted guard dog? Brilliant. I do think consciousness of our breeds of fear, and the ebbs and flows of these fears is a means of protecting ourselves and knowing ourselves. I think, on some level, that is why I felt compelled to transcribe my fear in the air as I felt it and why I felt the urge to write about it. I knew, if implicitly, that others were privy to these awakening moments of panic.
Aidan, I’m so glad your flight turned out well, though! I just want to say that, especially with all the misgivings you had ahead of time about leaving your lovely little family. To hear that there was some pretty dreadful turbulance that caused some real fear – well, that’s distressing.
Fear – Well, I posted about it recently, but, of course, I’m afraid of losing my mother, but it’s this horrible grasping kind of fear – like I’m trying to hold on but she’s slipping out of my reach.
I absolutely love what you tell your kids. Of course, telling them not to be afraid never soothes at all. My husband stomping around my daughter’s room looking for monsters or the bad guy doesn’t do anything either. Acknowledging is so much smarter. Thanks for that.
Linda – I can only imagine the fear you are experiencing about losing your mother. I say this because I think fear is one of those things that is universal, but not fungible. That’s to say your experience of fear is unique, yours, discrete. I do think acknowledging fear – whether it is our own or that of our kids – is a huge step in the right direction. (What is the right direction? I don’t have a clue.)
I love this post. It sounds like a truly frightening experience. You’re so right in not pushing away your children’s fears, like that would work anyway. I remember when my kids were so small, reading not to tell them “you’re okay,” when they fell or got hurt, but to acknowledge their feelings. The complete opposite of how my parents operated, how many parents still operate. I still cringe to hear parents tell a screaming little kid “Oh, you’re fine.” Any way we can support therir feelings is going to help them recognize and accept them, I think. And hope…
Maureen – It was a frightening experience and I am so glad I recorded it because once the turbulence subsided it all seemed like a figment of my imagination. I think this is what happens – we have these visceral encounters with fear and other things – and then, because we are resilient creatures, we bounce back and forget. I think there is a majesty in the remembering and the lessons it teaches us. Yes, including how we speak to our kids. Thanks for your comment!
I have been scared of everything, even of myself, my entire life, sort of explains why I made so many mistakes and just started to do things in my mid 30’s!!
I have always been escaping my fears, instead of facing them. Fear has been my driver for too long.
I am learning that fear is OK, it is how we FACE it, that determines what will happen. And we must face it, or stay stuck, behind, never learning a thing, never experiencing anything, missing out on opportunities. Staying safe and comfie just doesn’t cut it.
I am afraid of being alone, of never having kids, or a family I can call mine. I don’t wanna be an old lady with 10 cats and no money in the bank. I refuse to do that to myself!!
I realized recently, the things we fear, are nothing once we face them. You realize, wow, I want to do that again!!
Jen – Yes, fear of self. That is the worst fear. And, oddly, the best. Because once we confront this fear, once we face it down, we learn so much about who we are. I think it is so normal and even healthy to fear things, so many things, to recognize what they are, to consider them, to turn them over in our existential palms and make them our own. And then, maybe, just maybe, we move past these fears or make them work to our advantage. (I have zero clue what I am talking about!)
I am scared of leaving my Corporate America job. I am scared that, once I leave, I’ll be forced to go back there. I am scared that I can’t really make ends meet doing what I love. I am scared of heights when I’m outside. I’m scared of upside down roller coasters. I’m scared of losing my husband. I’m scared of losing my Mom. I’m scared of being a Mom. I’m scared of not living up to my potential. I’m scared of everyone I love deciding that they don’t love me. I’m scared of not being able to make ends meet. I’m scared that there won’t be enough.
Thanks for allowing me to feel scared, Aidan. It makes me feel less, um, scared.
Michelle – Thank you for sharing your personal fears – which, I imagine, are quite universal at heart. There is something so liberating, so intoxicating even, about enumerating the things of which we are afraid, of merely acknowledging that fear exists and ripples through even our best days. And, yes, there is something immensely empowering about this collective admission of fear, this simultaneous nod to our humanity.
Hi Aidan,
This post struck a chord with me. These days I’m struck by how tenuous our hold on life really is. I’ll be visiting here often.