The following is a true story. It’s my first memory.
I was five years old and I dreamt I was in the kitchen of my childhood home, sitting on the floor, staring at my white baby shoes with white laces. I heard a deafening roar. A huge lion was pacing at the other side of the room. His thick yellow and dark brown mane encircling his powerful neck was wet with drool. His eyes were inky and a tuft of thick black hair stood upright at the end of his long bushy tail.
I was terrified. I turned to the door behind me and reached for the knob. It was just out of my reach. I faced the lion. He was baring his teeth and I suddenly knew that I was dreaming. I also knew that I always woke up at the worst part of my dreams.
But what if it wasn’t a dream? I knew that it was as I crouched down on the kitchen tiles, rolled up into a tight ball, covered my head with my hands and waited. I heard the raspy inhale, I felt a blast of hot air and I smelled the musky scent as he flew into the air. A moment later, I woke up in the kitchen. I had faced my fear and I had survived.
My mother lived a fear based life. She was afraid of so many things, like running out of money even though she had plenty or getting hit by a car when she crossed the street. She would step off the curb, automatically throw out her hand to cover me and yell in a shrill voice, “Watch it,” even if no cars were coming. “The whole world is dangerous,” she stated at a family dinner.
That was my programming and some of my fears, as silly and inconsequential as they seem now, are deeply imbedded in my psyche.
When I drive to an unfamiliar place, I’m afraid I won’t find it.
When I have to lecture about something I wrote, I’m afraid I won’t find the words.
When I want to speak up about something that’s bothering me, I’m afraid the other person will get offended and walk away.
Does that make me a fear based person? It might and it might not. It doesn’t matter. Naming it won’t make it go away. Trying to ignore it only makes it louder and more present. Waiting for it to leave will invite it to pull up a chair. The only thing we can do with fear is the thing we don’t want to do. Feel it and face it with no judgments or shame. The first time I was hired to write a memoir for a celebrity, I was so scared, I climbed into bed and lay there for a while. I went for it and the results are right there in the bestseller lists.
Facing fear requires a commitment to be kind and loving to yourself. If you broke your leg, would you hit it with a hammer?
Stephen Levine said, “To heal is to touch with kindness that which we previously touched with fear.”
In 2016, I was craving community so I decided to gather my friends and teach a writing class. The class filled up quickly, but the more I planned it and the closer it got, the more I was afraid. I’d written more than a dozen books and I was still afraid I’d have nothing to say. I had worked with writers one on one, but a group was a different story. What if I ran out of ideas? What if I didn’t know as much as I needed to know? What if I rattled on about nothing and humiliated myself?
When I told a friend what was going on, she said, “You know your stuff. You’ll do a great job. And if you don’t, these people love you and they’ll support you, no matter what happens.”
When my students were sitting around my living room, I told them how scared I was. They told me
they were scared, too. They were afraid that they would write badly or get nothing on the page. When I realized we were all fellow travelers who were facing our fears together, I told them what writing meant to me. How it helped me process my life and find comfort. Maybe it could do the same for them.
The class went well. If I had allowed fear to stop me, I would have missed out on what has become one of the most nurturing parts of my life. The class has continued up to today, and we have created a community where we can speak about absolutely anything and no one judges anyone or tells anyone else what to do. We just listen.
When the world feels like it’s out of control like it so often does these days, and you find yourself slipping into fear, closing your heart and shaming yourself is not the answer. Making a commitment to stop judging and start soothing yourself will help more than you can imagine. If you can take your own hand, walk through the darkness and stop shaming and shoving yourself around, you’ll come out the
other side as a kinder, more peaceful person filled with self-love.
Success doesn’t mean a lack of fear. It means doing it anyway.
Georgia O’Keeffe, mother of American modernism, said: “I’ve been absolutely terrified every
moment of my life and I’ve never let it stop me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.”
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