Facing Fears

It is obvious that society runs on fear.  We rightly or wrongly elected a president, because of fear and continue to let fear define us as a population.  Afraid of new ideas, of old ideas, of each other and sadly we are afraid of ourselves.  We are a country of fear…  I can’t fix the country, you can’t either, we can only control i.e..fix ourselves, and that alone is a challenge few of us dare to try..

Most of my life I have slept facing the door at night.  I don’t know why; no-one ever came into my room at night, while I slept.  There was no abuse in the dark, no surprises in the night, but for some reason I had this unreasonable fear that I had to sleep facing the door, so I would see whoever, whatever coming through the door.  It determined which side of the bed I slept in at a motel, my bedroom, and even which direction I slept on a couch.  I never told anyone; I became so used to it, that the pattern was almost subconscious, unless I was asked to sleep differently.  The anxiety would rise up in me, and I would have to consciously calm myself; self-talk my way to reason, there is no one, the door is locked…… I am doing better with it, I’m less afraid of what could happen, more rational, more mature, less afraid.

My other great fear is the loss of a child.  My youngest son ran errands for companies, (it’s called hot-shotting), he would often be out working at night, all night long, on roads with conditions, that were sometimes dangerous.  I would call him before I went to bed, and when I woke in the middle of the night, I would wonder where he was, if he was safe, should I call…..  I started to feel neurotic; my fear keeping me awake for hours; my mind imagining the worst.  He and his older brother would go snowmobiling during avalanche season in the Rockies; I would check weather sites and worry…  My fear wasn’t good for me and it wasn’t good for them.  They both stopped telling me when they were dong things, so I wouldn’t worry.  I didn’t want to be shut out, by their protection of me so I started to turn it over to God.  Now I know there are those of you who don’t believe in God, but God is real to me.  He/she is who I can turn my fears over too.. I can’t control my fears; I can’t control, but I have to believe that God can.  Where does that put people who lose family they love…I don’t know.  I can’t say God had a different purpose, or there are lessons….I just don’t know.  I do know, that for me turning it over to God, whether the belief is my prayers matter, or it’s an acknowledgment of my lack of control, works for me.

Acknowledging that we have control, only over ourselves, is an essential part of healing, of surviving.  We can only take responsibility for the decisions and actions that we make and take.  Don’t be afraid…allow yourself to be a survivor and not a victim; relinquish your fear and things you can not control, to God, to Buddha, to Mother Earth….




The last few weeks have been interesting.  Blogging was a new experience for me; one that I knew I wanted to do, but didn’t consider all of the consequences of it.  Most families have a closet, in their minds where they bury the past.  Some people lock that closet door and never let anyone in; others open the door wide open and parade the contents to everyone.  I’m trying to find the balance and it’s challenging.  The challenge is to be the survivor and not the victim; I don’t want pity, or even understanding, I want change.  Opening my closet door means I have opened myself up to criticism and scrutiny; I understood that when I started the blog.

What I didn’t consider strong enough was that, the journal I told you I wrote in?, in the Courage to Heal story?; it’s been opened as well.  I am dealing with old emotions along with some of you.  It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but the emotions sometimes bubble to the surface.  I understand your fear: of exposure, your grief of things lost, the key on your closet door.  I understand.  It’s hard.

I hear from you and you tell me that a blog was welcome, or that it hurt; you tell me to keep writing, and that you can’t read anymore.  Thank you for your honest feedback.  My motivation to blog is change and I know that it is slow coming; that fear is sometimes all consuming, and that you can only crack the closet door open once in a while.  It’s ok.  I’m going to be here; I’ve made a commitment to myself to blog for a year.  Sometimes closing the damn door is healing!  Lock that sucker up and rest up; get strong.  If you need to open it again come back.

My disappointment and something else I didn’t consider is that people are reluctant to share and so my audience stays small.  Someone I love said, “I don’t want to share it and have everyone think I was abused.”  Lol, I get it!  If you get a chance, would you talk to one person about generalized abuse, physical, sexual, emotional, verbal….talk to one person about the subject.

I am so proud of you because you are a survivor.  You’re not blaming someone else, you’re stretching and growing, and I know how hard that is.

Being at a place in your life, where you’re happy with who you are (most of the time), is a wonderful place to be.  I wished with all my heart that I could have had the innocent adolescence, the secure male relationships, and the confidence that comes to a young woman, when those things are provided to her.  But who would I be then?  Would I have the same amount of empathy?  Would I be as brave as my journey has made me?  Would I be me?  Our past shapes us; the good and the bad.  Can we embrace it?  Can you embrace yourself?