Reflections on Fear

The past several days I have had the gift of reflecting on fear.

I am no stranger to fear.

I was terrified in school when a teacher would call on me. I had a full body response to fear. My face would turn bright red. My ears would pound so hard that after the teacher said my name, I struggled to hear any other words over the hard pounding in my head. My hands would sweat, smearing the penciled letters and making the paper all soggy. My heart had a beat of its own that competed with the blood beating in my head. And, that was when I knew the answer. I lived scared that a teacher would call on me, and I couldn't respond when they did; I froze.

As an adult, when my husband was out of town, I went to bed. I heard noises outside and was immediately paralyzed with fear. I laid there in bed unable to do anything for at least an hour (although it felt like at least six hours). Finally I slid out of bed and slithered on the floor to the kitchen. I grabbed the cordless phone and crawled into the only room in the house without a window. Paralyzed by fear, I called my mother and asked her to call 9-1-1 for me because someone was outside.

She said to call 9-1-1, and I said, "I don't know the number for 9-1-1!"

She was frustrated. "The number is 9-1-1! Dial 9--1--1!"

Trembling I finally dialed the numbers nine, one, one. (The abridged version for those of us who need to know how the story ends is that the police came and determined that I must have heard animals outside.) However, my point is simply that I have a history of being paralyzed when I'm afraid. I simply shut down--physically and mentally.

So many examples. So little time.

That is part of the gift of actually swimming in deep, open water across the lake; I faced many fears. What if I couldn't see where I was going without my glasses? What if I couldn't swim that far? What if my body couldn't handle the hard exercise? What if I panicked in the middle of the lake? What if I needed help? What if I couldn't train enough? What if I drowned? If I drowned, what would happen to my kids? What if I couldn't jump in the water from the dinner boat cruise? What if my swim cap came off? The "what ifs" were scary, and in the past, they would've paralyzed me. (Of course, Thursday's swim was a bit stressful and only encouraged the paralyzing fears!)

However, I am grateful that I have learned to look my fears straight in the eye and nod, "Yes, I'm afraid, but I know that I'm safe, and I trust that god will take care of me." I focused on my friends' bright red swim caps and not the masts on the distant shore. I trained, swimming 1.5 miles most days. I acknowledged that asking to get into a boat wasn't a big deal. I told myself, "I can touch the bottom any time I want. There's nothing in this lake, except water, rocks, and seaweed." (A bit delusional, but effective!) I practiced the jump. My sister straightened my hair; I braided it, and I decided that worst case scenario... I just shove it down the front of my swim suit. And, the swim was such an amazing experience! I'm grateful that my fears didn't deprive me of that experience.

Then the Universe decided to test and see how I handle surprise fears. (After all, I'd had months to handle the fear of the big swim.) Last night my sons and I came home, and my younger son said, "Mom, there's a man on our front porch."

Not thinking, I opened the front door and said, "Who the hell are you?"

No coherent answer. The shirtless man scratched himself and moaned.

I locked the front door and sent the boys upstairs. I called 9-1-1. (YAY! I remembered the number. I wasn't paralyzed with fear. I WAS AFRAID, but I was rational.)

The police came and dealt with the incoherent man.

However, the aftermath of the strange man (who had helped himself to a juice box and then passed out on the porch) is bizarre. I recognize the cheap lesson that we need to keep our doors locked and that we need to be more aware, but I don't feel the sense of fear. 

The same is not true for the boys. They are constantly checking doors to be sure they're locked. Their eyes widen when they hear a noise in any room that they can't see. They yell to ask who's making a noise. They're scared. Danny is sleeping my room for the second night. Pete is trying to be cautious, but not paralyzed by fear. I tell them that they need to listen to the little voice inside of them saying, "You're safe." Instead of the fear that makes them jumpy and nervous.

I'm happy to be free of the fears that would've paralyzed me. I'm grateful that they feel the need to be a bit more aware of the house and safety. It's a gift that I was able to admit that I was afraid, but qualify it after the police came by saying that I feel safe. It's a gift that our intruder neatly helped himself to a juice box and left the house. It's a gift that I am able to honor my sons' feelings, while encouraging them to choose to be safe without living in fear. It's a gift to have our feelings honored without shaming or minimizing them.

I took this beautiful picture of the marina this past Thursday (a day I was faced with great fear). I am grateful that this calm and serenity fill my heart. There is no room for fear when we're filled with love. I am grateful for love.

Namaste,

L