(Story submitted by Mir, from WouldaCouldaShoulda.com)
Two particularly fear-laden —even if, admittedly, irrationally so— events stand out at me from my childhood.
One year, we drove home from a friend's house on Christmas Eve, and upon opening the door to our basement garage, were greeted with a cloud of smoke. After some investigation, it was determined that the furnace had died in a rather spectacular fashion, but nothing was actually on fire. The house was cold for a day, then the furnace was fixed and all was well. I can't recall how old I was at the time, but I spent the next couple of days convinced that the furnace was going to explode, set the house on fire, and kill us all. My parents probably assumed I didn't sleep well because I was cold, but really, I was just trying to stay awake so that I could run when the explosion happened. I don't know if I even told them what I was thinking (probably not).
Another time, it became clear that the septic tank needed to be pumped immediately. I was probably younger for this one, and I don't recall any backing up of sewage in the house, or anything, but nonetheless I was convinced that the toilets were probably going to spring to life and kill us all, and by the time the giant truck arrived to pump the tank—complete with its huge hose and very loud engine—I became so hysterical, my mother actually took me and my brother out of the house on an errand so that I would calm down. I avoided flushing the toilets at home for weeks, maybe even months, afterward. And I got in trouble for it, too. But I was petrified that one flush could could flood the entire house in sewage.
Needless to say, the house never ended up filled with sewage, or catching on fire, or with an exploding furnace. I was a little kid, and little kids are irrational. Although I'm relatively certain I never told my parents I thought the house was going to become engulfed in a fiery inferno, I do recall justifying my no-flushing rule with tearful explanations about being afraid of the septic system. My worries were laughed off, because, "that would never happen" and "don't be silly." And I'm not faulting my parents for saying those things—that's a logical response.
But fear is mostly irrational. And a logical response tends to make it more irrational.
I'm halfway through my life, now, and I still struggle with fear. Sometimes my fears are well-founded, but here's the thing: Even when they are, just sitting around worrying does very little to help the situation. I don't like feeling fearful, I'm just… kind of used to it. And still not very good at conquering it.
Because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, I now have a child who often suffers from irrational fears. A single buzzing insect within earshot can ruin his enjoyment of the outdoors. Any barrier to doing what he wants to do thisveryminute is a harbinger of the kind of doom where said activity isn't just unavailable now, but forever and always.
It's irrational. But it's real. And what I was never able to do for myself, I do for him.
I'm not saying I never snap, "Oh, stop, It's fine." Because of course sometimes I do. But I try to stop and really listen to what he's saying. I affirm his feelings ("I understand that you are feeling scared about this") and make sure I understand what, exactly, he's worried about ("Do you think that bee is going to sting you?"). And when I can, I explain why the fear could logically be set aside ("Bumblebees almost never sting people; just leave it alone and you should be fine.").
But then, I also acknowledge that maybe he can't. And that that's okay. ("There's nothing we can do about this, other than to go inside. And then we'd miss all the fun out here, when the chances of getting stung are really very, very low. I think we should stay out, and take a few deep breaths, and try to concentrate on the fun we're having.") When I think he can tolerate it, I talk him through the fear to its ridiculous conclusion, like: "You're right, it's going to come over and sting you a thousand times because that bee has decided you are the root of all bee-problems on the planet! And then it's going to get a tiny hatchet and chop you up! And then ants will come eat your flesh! And—hey, why are you laughing??"
I do the best I can, for him. And then when I catch myself caught in my own fear-loop—maybe it's not about bees; maybe it's about worrying that said bee-phobic will never get past some of his fears and grow up happy and well—I try to do it for myself, too. Yes, I worry. I feel scared. But I remember that most of the stuff that scares me was more in my head than in reality, and I make a kind of peace with my demons. Fine, be there. Be scary. I can take a little fear, if I have to. I don't like it, but I don't dread it the way I used to, either.
What do you do when you're scared? Do you see fear as a blessing, a curse, or something in-between?
(read more Mir here…why wouldn't you?)
I have anxiety and fear issues beacause of my ADD. Often, though, it’s not a spicific fear. I wake up with a case of the Mean Reds. I’m scared and I don’t know what I’m scared of.
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Thanks for the ideas on how to maybe better help my own little bug-phobic more gently.
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I was ALL INTO the irrational fear thing as a kid. Heights? Hated ‘em (and ruined at least one family outing to a medieval castle), driving in the mountains? We were going plunge off the edge to our DOOM. This turned into more socially based anxieties as a tweenie/teen, which I still assert are actually very logical fears to have given the feral nature of the young human.
As an adult I’ve actively worked to not let fear dictate life for me. I go bouldering and cliff climbing and yes, I do get the tummy-wobbles every time I have to start heading down a cliff face, but I do it. I learned to ski and I took an utterly terrifying Real Genuine Art Class. My kids were raised with the mantra, ‘live life, don’t watch it,’ and although it’s gotten a LOT harder to hold to that philosophy as they get older and their adventures get much bigger and more complex (moving to Europe to go to university, buying a motorcycle, joining the Air Force…) I continue to encourage them to (often) chase the hard but wonderful things rather than (always) settling for the easy stuff.
So why, recently, have I been putting on imaginary brakes when someone else is driving? Why does a small grind of gravel mean some evildoer is plotting outside my house? Why do I hear about a totally unusual and rare accident and fret that I didn’t warn my offspring to watch out for that particular danger?
Maybe because I had surgery two weeks ago and my not-so-conscious brain is trying to come to terms with possible mortality. Maybe because someone walked into my house one night when I was asleep which means there really ARE evildoers outside.
Or maybe just because I haven’t challenged myself lately, putting off that one thing that I really want to do but that I’m afraid I’ll fail at?
I think it’s time to climb a few cliffs again! Thanks for the reminder!
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I was hospitalized twice this summer and was very sick. I became more afraid than I ever have in my life. I think there is something to facing your mortality. It’s getting better now but I know exactly what you mean.
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It may also be the type of medication that you came home with. My daughter suffered horrific terror and paranoia to find out it was a lesser known side effect of the Vicodin they had her on for the surgery after breaking her elbow. To this day we still struggle with it sometimes.
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Hmmm… they did give me vicodin – or at least cut-rate generic whatsis version. I stopped taking it after the 2nd night because I HATED how it made me sleep but dream like made so the night went on fooooreeeevvveeeer. Interesting!
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Minds are weird and wonky things, aren’t they?
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This reminds me of a story….My family, along with my husband’s brother and family went to Disney World. We got on the ride Soarin’ and somehow my 5 yead old niece ended up sitting between my husband and my 4 year old son instead of her parents, despite her protesting the ride the entire time in line. As predicted, she started screaming as soon as it got started. She would yell “We’re going to die!” My husband put his hat over her face so she couldn’t see and she would quiet down, then pull the hat down and start screaming again. My two kids were stunned by her behavior.
To this day, we still tell the story complete with “We’re going to die!” because it is symbolic of my niece’s personality in general. Everything is drama with her including her fears.
I feel for my niece. But it also was a great way to talk with my kids about irrational fears and how sometimes we make them worse (like her continuing to pull away the hat). Admittedly, it’s a lesson I need reminding of too occasionally when I start worrying about my kids and how I’m destroying their precious little souls with my mistakes. Guess drama might run in the family just a bit.
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I’m not a particularly fearful person, but my brain has a way of going straight to the worst-case scenario when minor dangers arise. Then, like you, I make silly jokes about the absolute worst stuff that could happen, and meanwhile my brain is coming up with viable plans for all those possible outcomes, and pretty soon I’m feeling thoroughly prepared for whatever might come to pass. Which, most of the time, is nothing very awful. But it’s good to be prepared, right?
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I’m going to try to incorporate a little bit, at least, of what you’re saying in my reaction to my usually fearless son’s occasional fears (which include bees). It’s difficult to remember, because the boy who likes to climb mountains, hurtle down ski slopes, stop hockey pucks with his head (with a helmet, but, ugh.) is scared to stand in a garden because there are some bugs (not even necessarily bees) buzzing about.
But the point, I guess, is that we are talking about irrational fears. Understanding if he shared my irrational fear of hurtling down mountains, but dismissing his fear of bees is fundamentally not getting it, right?
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I was not particularly fearful as a child. After a particularly bad car accident a couple of years ago, though, I suffered from panic attacks. I haven’t had one in ages, thankfully. I dislike when my mind goes down what-if road. I have trouble not being in control. Yet, I force myself to realize that all I can do is prepare as best I can. I can’t control what happens when the kids are in school, for instance. It’s the potential randomness of bad things that cause me to have to stop and breathe. Because I’ll see something devastating on the news and my imagination places my family in that scenario and then…it’s on. I don’t downplay it. I acknowledge it, but I don’t give in to it.
When my girls mention being afraid, I admit I do sometimes just say the fear is silly and should be ignored (but I quickly remember to correct that, b/c there are definitely times when I’m unable to do it, so of course it’s not easy for a 10 or 8 yr old).
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I do have some irrational fears, and I notice it more at particularly hormonal times of the month as I move into the pre-menopause years. I will wake up in the middle of the night with ridiculous thoughts and anxieties. My 12 year old daughter suffers from anxiety, so maybe this is God’s way of letting me see how she feels most of the time. She amazes me with the way she faces her fears. She plays several team sports, serves at church and participates in forensics in spite of how uncomfortable she feels doing them. She will even say, “I am not going to let my anxiety rule my life.”
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Electricity – seriously. I hate the plugging in and unplugging thing on any appliance. Turning the oven on sometimes makes me shake. Irrational – I KNOW! BZZZZT – POOF never happens. Oh well.
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My lovely five year old daughter is the Queen of irrational fears. It’s debilitating, frustrating and confusing. When I was a child I was not given an option to let my fears control me- at least outwardly. I faced them head on. But I also have many memories of feeling like my parents were not there for me when they should have been.
For my daughter,I do much of what you described and we have tried therapy for her which helped only a little. We have opted to acknowledge the fear, comfort, and press on anyway. Frankly, I notice difference in her courage, but at least she knows I am there for her and she is not alone.
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I find my antidepressants help; I still am afraid a lot, but it isn’t as all-consuming and can be set aside long enough to SLEEP.
I’m lucky that my daughter doesn’t seem as prone to anxiety as I always was, but it’s hard work hiding my “true” self from her all the time so as not to freak her out.
Your childhood stories reminded me of when I was about 4, maybe just turned 5, and I very naughtily did the forbidden sneak-out-of-bed to play with my baby sister. She was still in a crib, and she would dangle a blanket out. I’d pretend to be a dog, growl (quietly!) and bite it and pull.
She gave a yank and one of my teeth went flying (it was never found). Sadly, I didn’t know that baby teeth were SUPPOSED to come out (hey, no preschool and 2 TV channels). But I didn’t want my parents to find out I’d been out of bed.
So I went back to bed and quietly waited to die . .
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Love this! And I remember at least three ‘quietly waited to die’ moments in my own childhood…
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Remember that fear/faith thing I keep bringing up? Oh, fears and anxieties, I has ‘em. But in my imagining the worst-case scenario, I also picture me being okay. Sure, the bee might sting. Sure, the house might burn down. Sure, banks might fail and Armageddon will be upon us. But me? I will be okay, whether in body or soul. (And none of that is dependent upon a Flying Spaghetti Monster)
So, that works on everything except flying, because I am one of those people who would rather crawl on my knees to my destination than leave the ground. For flying I have a little dial in my head and I just crank up my willingness to suffer. I know it’s going to be painful to get on that plane. I know it’s going to feel like dying. But for some things, I’m willing to suffer a little bit more. I rarely fly, but I can do it when it matters.
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