Fear
It cushions us from hurt, protects us from the consequences of our own foolishness. Fear keeps us from climbing down those rickety basement stairs in the dark. It is fear that keeps us ordinary folk from jumping off cliffs or throwing ourselves out of airplanes.
But the same comfortable swaddling that cradles us can also suffocate us. Where is the line between guardianship and imprisonment?
Therapy today held a couple of revelations for me. The biggest revelation was how, despite my best efforts, I’ve held on to the fears my mother instilled in me. And in fact, how I’d rationalized the irrational.
My whole childhood, I was surrounded by my mother’s paranoia. I couldn’t go outside at night. I couldn’t be alone with a boy or a man without my mother’s supervision. I couldn’t wear pajamas or a nightgown outside my room without a robe, even in my own home.
Men were evil, abusers by their very nature. My fellow teens were alcoholics, budding druggies, promiscuous Adams & Eves luring me from the straight and narrow.
As an adult, intellectually, I’ve known that my mother’s fears were a manifestation of her illness, and not a guide to live my own life. But it seems that instead of letting those fears go, I instead began to rationalize them.
Talking to a guy in a bar? No, never, because it’s not safe for a woman.
Running by myself at night? Not wise in my neighborhood - I could get hit by a car.
My mother’s fear of sexual intimacy became my fear of pregnancy, my fear of disease, my fear that “others” might perceive me as “loose”.
And by adopting my mother’s fears, I’ve allowed healthy fear to grow into something overwhelming; walls that loom around me, no matter where I step. A fortress of solitude, indeed.
But the same comfortable swaddling that cradles us can also suffocate us. Where is the line between guardianship and imprisonment?
Therapy today held a couple of revelations for me. The biggest revelation was how, despite my best efforts, I’ve held on to the fears my mother instilled in me. And in fact, how I’d rationalized the irrational.
My whole childhood, I was surrounded by my mother’s paranoia. I couldn’t go outside at night. I couldn’t be alone with a boy or a man without my mother’s supervision. I couldn’t wear pajamas or a nightgown outside my room without a robe, even in my own home.
Men were evil, abusers by their very nature. My fellow teens were alcoholics, budding druggies, promiscuous Adams & Eves luring me from the straight and narrow.
As an adult, intellectually, I’ve known that my mother’s fears were a manifestation of her illness, and not a guide to live my own life. But it seems that instead of letting those fears go, I instead began to rationalize them.
Talking to a guy in a bar? No, never, because it’s not safe for a woman.
Running by myself at night? Not wise in my neighborhood - I could get hit by a car.
My mother’s fear of sexual intimacy became my fear of pregnancy, my fear of disease, my fear that “others” might perceive me as “loose”.
And by adopting my mother’s fears, I’ve allowed healthy fear to grow into something overwhelming; walls that loom around me, no matter where I step. A fortress of solitude, indeed.
posted by Cary at 2:53 PM
1 Comments:
Recognizing those fears as not yours has got to be the first step toward conquering them, or at least controlling them.
My mom is terribly afraid now, of everything. She is sure that even a window left open a crack will mean armed marauders forcing their way in to kill her. There are bogey men everywhere. The dark is her enemy.
I'm assuming that most of this is a factor of old age. But I can remember, when we'd stay at my grandmother's house in the country when I was a kid, I felt the same way. Maybe not the armed marauders, but the fear of who or what was out there. It was awful. Fortunately, my worry about keeping up appearances was enough to get me to control my fears to a certain extent.
Now, I can see that those fears, then, were really an expression of the lack of security and stability in my life. I "outgrew" them, but I fear that when I'm old they will come back, and that is not a comfortable way to live.
Words of wisdom? You talk about fearing that people will think you loose, among all those others. That one might be the easiest to conquer. It sounds like your mother and her paranoia really did a number on your confidence in yourself. You know you are smart and capable and successful, so focus on that. I think, at least for me it was this way, if you can bring that knowledge of your value, if you will, to the fore, you'll know that other people probably see you that way, too. And if they do, if they know you, they're not going to think you're loose, unless you are.
There are real concerns with talking to men in bars, not just the talking, but not looking out for yourself when you meet anyone, male or female in that kind of situation. You have to be aware of dangers, account for them, do what you can to protect yourself. All the things you mention are true and real. The world we live in is full of dangers, but recognizing the real ones and staying alert and taking precautions, well, you can do most things. Think about the things you've done to make yourself safe - don't run at night, don't give out your name and phone number to strangers, park under a light, meet strangers in public places, always have cab fare ;+), all those things - and, when there's no way to do that, then avoidance is a good thing.
But I think having confidence in yourself is key. Did any of that make any sense?
taawgz
"togs" in the South?
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