Introspection – A Personal Transmutation of Fear

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about fear…what it is, how it affects us, and how we can gradually become so accustomed to living with it that it cripples us without us ever knowing it.

MizFit has been setting challenges lately about stepping outside your comfort zone and doing things that you’re afraid of, which I think is wonderful. There are so many things in life that we can miss out on because we’re afraid.

I’ve suffered from panic disorder for about twelve years now – at least, that is when it was diagnosed, because that’s when the panic attacks became uncontrollable. But looking back, I think I’ve probably suffered from it for most of my life.

I was afraid of everything. I was a very outwardly confident, rather brazen young lady, I will admit, and probably had I told anyone I was ruled by fear, I’m sure they’d have been shocked. But internally, I was perpetually anxious. I was afraid of being alone, and I was terrified of crowds. I was afraid of the future. I was afraid of looking stupid. I was afraid of failure. I was afraid of being kidnapped or raped or attacked if I were left alone at home for any length of time. I was afraid of getting lost. I was afraid of flunking out of school (despite being a straight-A student). I was afraid of not having any friends. And the list goes on, ad infinitum. Many nights, I didn’t sleep at all, because I was frozen by nebulous fears.

Yet, at the same time, I was strangely fearless. I would wander in the woods for hours without another soul around. I would ride my bike on the highway without a thought for the possibility of getting hurt. Roller coasters were my raison d’etre. I’d stand up in front of the class and give a presentation or crack jokes while the class discussed something and never have a qualm about being ridiculed.

I’d like to say it’s the same way today. I try to live life as fully and as fearlessly as I possibly can, despite the fact that there is an enormous amount of fear in me. And yet…sometimes I find myself opening my eyes, and then, to paraphrase a concept presented in an amazing work by Terry Pratchett**, I open them again. I open my mind and my eyes more fully, and I realize how occluded my self-awareness has been.

I don’t live fearlessly. There are so many things I don’t do, now. I cling to my routine and my habits and my personal space like a security blanket, insulating me and keeping me safely sealed away from the bright, scintillating, dangerous world out there. I have wrapped myself in stagnancy and complacency, and I have felt smugly content.

But when I open that other set of eyes, I am somewhat appalled. So many of the things that I want so badly – oh, like, say, to be published? – I have failed to chase because of fear. I find excuses not to do what I have to do to make them happen, because I am afraid of failing – or afraid of succeeding, and having to adjust to a changed life. While that change is what I think I want, the prospect actually frightens me, because it would be different.

What is at the bottom of this? I’ve thought a lot about that in the past few weeks, and I can only conclude that it’s a basic lack of faith in myself, a basic belief that I am not worthy nor competent to reach out and claim what I want. I just can’t seem to believe that I deserve it. And that makes me simultaneously angry and so sad, because that isn’t who I want to be. It isn’t who I thought I was, any more.

As much as I have learned and changed and grown over the past ten years, there seems to be a current of self-loathing that I can’t seem to root out. Part of me wants to just weep at that realization, to bemoan the fact that I don’t seem to have made any progress at all despite how hard I’ve worked.

But that’s the same part. The part that looks at that core of fear and just wilts, thinking, “I’m never going to feel better about myself,” is the same part that is ruled by that fear. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, a closed loop that feeds itself endlessly. Because the truth is, I have made enormous progress. I know so much more about myself and about my world than I did before, and I have the tools I need to take these demons and turn them into angels. I do not accept my own heartsick estimation of myself at these times, because I know it’s flawed. I am afraid that I haven’t changed – but I know I have. It’s just that there is always more to learn, and the journey toward being the best me is one that will never, ever be ended, at least until I am ended.

So I have a choice to make. Do I give in to the discouragement and weariness that these insights seem to breed? Do I curl up in a ball the way I want to, and just tell the world to go away, that I just can’t deal? Or do I push that away, refuse to give in, and keep grimly marching on, demanding improvement and change?

Actually, it’s not that simple. It’s not that black and white. There really is a middle ground, and it lies somewhere within acceptance and real self-love. It requires that I love myself not only enough to change, but to know that I am worthy of that love even without the change. I am deserving of love now, not just “when I get there”. I don’t have to demand anything, I don’t have to struggle. I don’t have to reject that part of myself and fight to carve it into something I can love.

Instead, I can choose to accept it. I can choose to acknowledge it, to open my heart to that frightened self, and to know that it’s okay. It’s all right to be afraid. I don’t need to be ashamed of that, or hurt by it. It’s just a part of me. It’s what I choose to do with it that matters.

For me, at least, it’s a basic truth that you can’t fight fear with negative emotions. You can’t fight it with anger, or with denial, or a stern demand for courage. You can’t fight it, period. But that doesn’t mean you have to yield to it. You can accept it and know it as a part of you, and by doing so, you can rob it of its power. Yes, I am afraid. Yes, that fear makes me want to not do this thing. I accept that. I acknowledge it. And I will do the thing anyway, understanding the fear as a product of uncertainty and my own human fallibility. And when it is all said and done, I will not have conquered the fear – I will have transmuted it. Because I will have done the thing and I will know that my fears were needless – doing the thing did not kill me, and it did not take away all that is good in my life.

I think it’s important to face your fears, but to face them with love and acceptance. Because there is so much that is beautiful and wonderful in life, and sometimes – like the path to the summit of the mountain – the way you have to travel to get there is scary and dangerous. And though the view from the top is so worth it, you don’t have to drag your frightened self there kicking and screaming. You can just…sort of take your own hand and lead gently, and then enjoy the view together.

So today, I’m not resolving not to be afraid. I’m just resolving to accept and understand my own fear, without railing against it, and work toward achieving my goals regardless. But not grimly, not angrily, not with my teeth clenched against the fear. Rather, with the understanding that, succeed or fail, I still have the love and affection of my family and friends – and I really do deserve it. Someday, I know, if I keep reminding myself of that, I will truly own it with all of me. For now, it’s enough to know it with most of me.

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**Please to rush out and get The Wee Free Men and A Hat Full of Sky, and for that matter everything else the man has ever written; you won’t be sorry.