Fear

 

 

February 28, 2022

 

Greetings from where I tremble,

 When I was young, so young I was barely self-aware, when I didn’t know I had a goofy cowlick or a snotty nose, or if I was smart or strong, or why girls were, I still knew what fear was.

 Fear of whatever was under the basement stairs that dissolved in the sallow light from the bare bulb.  Fear of strangers, who might kidnap me from the Yankee store.  Fear of my parent’s disapproval.  Fear of Santa.

 When I was in elementary school, third or fourth grade, there was a story that went around about a kid who had been hit in the temple, maybe with a ball, and then he was paralyzed, and some thought he died.  No one knew this kid, but the story was told until it reached near mythical proportions.  What matters in this little vignette is that it made me afraid I was going to get hit in the temple.

 What’s interesting is how powerful this was in the moment, a fear that lasted, at the time, probably 10% of my life.  I thought of it when I climbed fences, or played kick the can, or jumped on the bed when I wasn’t supposed to, which was always.  What if I get hit in the temple and get paralyzed?  I thought this when I sat on the roof of our garage, also mostly forbidden; what if I fall off the garage and hit my temple?

 There were people in my young life who told me that God says not to be afraid or worry about things, pointing to birds and flowers as proof of his love.  But my image of Him in those days was an angry vengeful being, rightfully so, given the list of venial sins I confessed every week.  So, I was afraid of God.

 I’ll pause here to tell you that whatever fear I’ve felt has not stopped me from being reckless, from risking, from exploring, from getting hit in the head.  It is not a constant companion, or one that I obsess over.  I simply acknowledge that it exists, in some form, in many places of my life. 

 Fear comes in various shades, from the startling prick in your chest, to the vague unease, to shades of anxiety or dread.  There are the extremes, where we are terrified, fearing for our lives, which, thankfully and hopefully, are rare occasions. 

 I have been afraid I have a deadly disease, afraid I’ll be beaten up, afraid I’ll run out of money, that I’ll be humiliated.   I have felt fear when waiting for my children to be born.  I feared my basement would flood.  I feared whatever skittered across my foot.  Scary movies, first dates, roller coaster rides, algebra tests, a car crossing the center line, a morning waiting for test results. 

 None of these fears are debilitating, only a few have mattered enough to change my behavior.  If I had to guess, and I do, I would say I have a normal spectrum of fear. We all experience fear, usually for our own protection.  Learning about what we fear is also helpful in understanding fear and dealing with it.  There is a clue there.

 Many of my fears have a few things in common, among which this truth: they don’t exist anymore.  Not that fear doesn’t exist, but the things I was afraid of have dissolved, like the monster under the stairs.

 On the first night of a bicycle tour with my friend Tom, we hid in a field to sleep.  I was awake most of the night, concocting complex responses to the murderers I was afraid would find us in the dark.  Every innocent rustle of leaves sent me into a panic.  And the next morning the fear was gone, and the experience kept it at bay.  I slept in strange places for hundreds of nights, and rarely felt anything but the roots under my sleeping bag, or the annoyance at mosquitoes.

 The things I worried about, was afraid of, felt fear about, mostly didn’t happen, and the things that did I learned from, and it made me more confident.  Perspective, time, experience, are building blocks against fear.  And one other thing; curiosity.

 The more I chose to learn about the things that I feared, the less imposing they became.  It’s not the only answer to rational fear, but it’s a beginning.  If I were curious about the person or event or circumstances that I feared, if I made the choice to understand, the fear faded into something else.

 I haven’t figured it all out.  I still wake up in the middle of the night, not afraid of murderers or monsters, but far less interesting, and far less important things.  (I would list them, but I fear you would think less of me.)

But what is most reassuring for me, as I face new fears, is to know that these will pass too.  They all do.  That knowledge, even while I feel fear, is powerful.  I can simply look into a future moment and see the monster has dissolved and take courage in that.

  

Hope this finds you curious,

 

David

 

  

 

Copyright © 2022  David Smith