Nothing to Fear Except Fear Itself

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!  Even though it’s no longer Mother’s Day where you are!  Here is a the song,  Mama, by Tupac Shakur and Boyz II Men, mixed by DJ Wise.

OK.  What is my topic for today?  How about fear?  

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t ruled by fear.  When I was six, I dreaded walking to school because there was this much older girl who used to make fun of me every time I walked by.  I think she was in junior high school or high school.  Looking back, she probably had a pretty shitty life that made her want to lash out at someone even more helpless than she.  At the time, though, all I could think was, “Why is this big girl so mean to me?” 

Day after day, she was there.  I can still remember how my stomach started churning at the sight of her standing by the curb, just waiting for me to pass by.  I don’t know why I didn’t tell anyone–I just didn’t.  Finally, one day, I burst into tears as she picked on me.  She immediately stopped, told me that I had pretty hair, and she never bothered me again.

I should have felt victorious that I managed to get her to leave me alone.  Instead, I felt weak.  She made me cry.  I didn’t like how that made me feel, and I hated her for that.  

I got picked on throughout my school years.  I was fat, Asian, smart, and gawky.  I can remember being called everything from Minnesota Fats to Chink, and several things in-between.  I remember standing up for another Asian kid one time (on a school bus), and that resulted in the bully (tough white girl) spitting in my hair.  

In another example, there was a girl who picked on me every day in homeroom.  This was in high school.   I still remember her name (which I won’t say), and I remember how much I hated going into homeroom because I knew she’d be there with that stupid smirk on her face.  In her case, I got fed up one day.  As she was teasing me, I grabbed her by her hair, yanked her head back, and told her I would kill her if she ever bothered me again.  She didn’t.  I couldn’t believe I had done that to her, but a cornered animal will fight.  What I learned from that experience was that sometimes, you can only get a bully to stop by being a bigger bully.  Fortunately (or unfortunately), that lesson never stuck.

Part of my problem with fear is that I was raised to anticipate all  kinds of danger that might happen to me.  It didn’t help that I had a vivid imagination and could dream up a million of bad things that could happen to me as well.  Even now, my father exhibits the same kind of thinking.  On his visit back, he kept fussing about me living alone and how that made me an easy target.  Given that we’ve had one serious stranger attack in the city where I live, his fear is exaggerated.  He also doesn’t like that I drive alone because god knows what might happen to me.  In his mind, he might be legitimately worried about my safety.  To me, it sounds like he doesn’t think I can take care of myself.

I didn’t get my driving license until I was seventeen, and I only got it after my mom pushed me to get it.  Why didn’t I want to take it?  Driving freaked me the fuck out.  I mean, I could imagine all sorts of bad things happening to me just inside the house–how the hell was I going to deal with driving?  In addition, I don’t do well on tests.  I freeze up, and I invariably do poorly on them.  It took me several tries to pass my road test.  When I finally did, I felt a sense of burden because I would have to drive on a regular basis.  I still hate driving.

I can’t help looking back at my life and think about the roads I haven’t traveled because I have been consumed by fear.  I had the opportunity to go to college in California, but I didn’t think I could handle it, so I stayed in Minnesota instead.  I could have stayed in California after getting my MA, but I couldn’t fathom making it there, so I came back to MN.  I almost didn’t even make it out to CA to get my MA because I was consumed by numerous fears.  

My therapist finally had to tell me, “Half the things you think are going to happen, won’t.  In addition, things will happen that never even occurred to you.”  She was right on both accounts.  She also told me, “You think faith means believing in something and then doing it.  Faith is doing something and letting the belief come later.”  She’s right about that, too, but it makes me unbelievably anxious to do something without knowing that it’ll work out.  I know, I know, I can never really know, but that time, I didn’t even have an illusion that things would be fine.  In fact, I tend to believe things won’t work out, which makes the accompanying fear even more difficult with which to deal. 

Another problem is that I tend to remember the bad things that happen to me, which skews my perception.  Many good things happened to me while I was in CA.  For the first time, I felt powerful.  I was one of the movers and shakers, and it felt good.  I got my MA.  I felt like a real writer.  I blended in with the population.  However, it all ended horribly when I had a falling out with a friend.  Our mutual friend took her side, and I ended up feeling like a fool.  In addition, my long-distance, long-term relationship was fraying.  I escaped back to MN to lick my wounds.

Rationally, I know that there are very few decisions that will kill me or do me serious harm.  In my mind, though, every decision I make is fraught with consequences.  In part, it’s because my mother could find the downside to every decision, and she passed that trait down to me.  It also becomes an excuse not to do anything.  If every decision has a negative consequence, then why should I make any decisions at all?

I don’t know the answer to this.  I have several tricks to get around the roadblocks of my mind so I can do what I need to do despite my fear, but they don’t always work.  I have yet to come up with a foolproof way to short-circuit the mechanisms of my brain.  I will be happy when I finally do.