For over a week I’ve had nothing useful to say and to be honest, that’s probably a good thing. When I write, it’s generally when things are going wrong or things are bad or I’m just needing a place to rant and rave about the stupidity of others.
In that sense, it has been a pretty decent nine or so days.
So let’s talk about fear. And not just regular fear, but irrational fear. You know what that is. Everyone does and has some kind of fear that controls them. A fear that consumes them in some manner. A fear that would eat you alive if you hadn’t learned of some way (healthy or not) to deal with it.
We tend to calls these types of fears “phobias”, even though a lot of fears wouldn’t normally be associated with a phobia.
Merriam-webster describes a phobia as such:
an exaggerated, usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation.
Now think about that for a second. Have you ever been afraid of something and known, abstractly at least, that it was an irrational fear? Of course you have, and that qualifies as a phobia.
Afraid of spiders even though you know they can’t hurt you? Phobia. Afraid of heights even though you know you’d have to actually fall to get hurt? Phobia.
Have you ever had a panic attack? I have. It is one of the single most terrifying experiences I’ve ever had in my entire life. I’ve had a lot of close calls; I’ve almost died countless times, but none of those experiences parallel with having a panic attack. None.
And the thing about a panic attack is, the rational side of your brain is saying, “Okay, calm down. You feel weird, but it’ll pass. Just calm down.”
But then there’s the irrational part, the one that screams the loudest, and it’s saying, “HOLY FUCK! YOU’RE GONNA DIE! YOU’RE GONNA DIE! JESUS CHRIST! YOU BETTER FIND GOD QUICK!”
So obviously, which one are you going to listen to?
Not exactly a pleasant experience, but I managed to get through it.
I’m currently struggling with a fear. A phobia. It’s irrational and I know it is, but having been taken by surprise by this fear a few times, I find myself thinking about it more often than I should. And I know I shouldn’t be. I should ignore that small voice that slowly rises in to a stadium filled roar, but like all irrational fears, I’m somehow unable to do so.
I had a grief counselor give me a helpful piece of advice, and it has stuck with me over the past ten years. In fact, it was the only helpful thing she did for me, but that’s besides the point.
She said, “There are certain things that you know make you angry, that make you sad, and that make you fearful. Only you can choose not to think about those things. Knowing yourself and being confident is about knowing when to stop thinking about the things you’re afraid of.”
Of course, it’s much easier said than done, but there are times when that still small voice comes looking for a fight and I’m able to drown it out and let it know that it’s not wanted. It’s just like a bull fight; I plant my feet just so, see the coming charge, and I’m able to wave the bull past at just the right moment.
As I age, and as I gain a tiny increment of wisdom with each run, I’ll soon be able to conquer those fears without an effort. And who knows what is possible beyond that.