For the past year, I've had a lot of fear. Actually, my whole life, I've had a lot of fear. But lately, the fear has buried its way into my neck and for a while, I've had some pretty bad neck issues. And during this time, I suppose I held onto the fear and tried to control it. My mind focused on my neck, my tooth, a situation at work, a schedule change, my writing life, or any number of different things. I thought that if I could simply fix the neck, all would be OK. Or, if I could fix the teeth, all would be OK, or, if I could land a huge book deal, all would be OK, and on and on, ad infinitum...
But once I temporarily fixed one thing, I'd grab onto another, creating a never-ending train of this: control, fear, control, fear. And the deeper fears never went away; they just festered and grew.
I've done this my whole life.
And all the time, I watch other people act in similar ways. One man may be truly afraid of his current custody battle and divorce situation, but instead of feeling those feelings, he focuses on overworking. A woman may be nervous about her child's health issues, but instead of grappling with those emotions, she buys ten horses and spends all of her days at the barn. A teenager could be terrified of the change of leaving home for college, but instead of expressing the fear, they drink and eventually drop out.
Look around. All over, people are dodging relationship issues, certain life situations, and random emotions.
I've noticed that when I circle around whatever deeper emotions I may be having, and I grab onto something else, attempting some ridiculous control, the true emotions remain there, unaddressed, unsolved, and they become buried in my body -- my back, my neck, my rapid heart, and the like. Or it can snowball and turn into a panic attack or dark thinking if I really run wild with the "control approach."
For many years, I've been doing a lot of hard work on these notions, and I've been having some breakthroughs. Now I can have really horrific days, and I can even venture into hell territory, but I can pull myself back, and I don't have to head into the rabbit hole of "losing it all," as I may have in the past. I can feel godawful fear, and I may still sink into attempts at control, but I'm aware of my patterns and since I'm aware, the control attempts are lessening. What is emerging is this: my ability to face the true issues head-on. And sometimes, I am successful right in the moment. Not perfect, but some awesome growth is definitely present.
Here's an example. This morning, I woke up with a swiftly beating heart, and I was scared as all hell. Right away, I regressed and tried to control it. I focused on my tooth, my neck, my work, and I ran through a "body scan," as I sometimes do, searching for a reason for the fear, searching for something wrong with me. And then, all at once, I let all of the control go.
And right now, as I write, I sit here feeling the fear itself, realizing that my attempts at fixing my neck and tooth are not the real fears at all. Fuck no. The real fear is this: the fear of loving and being loved. Because when we love, or when we accept love, it can be terrifying to many, especially to those who grew up in alcoholic homes. When we truly love, there is no control involved.
To some, like me, the idea of loving can feel like a "free fall," because growing up, healthy examples of love weren't even present. To me, if I defined love as a child, it would include these words only: abandonment, loss, pain, separation, anxiety, shame, and any other number of negative feelings. And I've carried this view into my adulthood.
As I've spent years digging into these false notions, uncovering my warped sense of love, I've realized that when it comes to real love, real closeness, the possibility of loss and pain have terrified me so much that I've never really allowed myself to fully dig in. And so, I've often kept the world at a distance. And so, deep inside, I have remained perpetually lonely. Why? Because that's an oddly awful, yet familiar, feeling. Because to me, growing up, I was lonely 24/7, and this place of emptiness often enters into me like an old friend; it is as comfortable to me as my favorite pair of skate sneakers. Easily, I can slip right into this lonely, distant role.
And I surround myself with people -- friends, lovers, coworkers, family members -- who keep me trapped there.
But now I'm coming to a place in my life where it feels as if inside me, a switch has gone off, and something is shifting, and the distance is clearing. Now I see that I can change this child heart -- one full of self-loathing, darkness, and fear, because I can create a new sense of love, one that is fresh, positive, and unique, one that is all mine. This idea of change, this altering of perception, hasn't entered into me overnight; the process has taken nearly 23 years of hard work, and I feel that I'm still a baby on the journey.
But I see that the challenge is this -- I can feel the fear, but I can reach out, move through it, and allow myself the chance to be vulnerable.
I believe that God loves me with a kind, gentle heart, one absent of control, because I have...and we all have...free will. And I believe that God wants me to find a way to love others in this way as well. And perhaps within the "free fall" of love, God is there to help me learn how to fly.
So, what's the next step? Take care of me, so I can take care of others. Simple, the next right thing. Ha, breakfast.
C.A. MacConnell
