I think FDR had it wrong: There is a REAL reason for fear; a real purpose. And I've discovered that I disregarded it - denied it - and put myself in even more peril. All because Twiggy trusted adults to know the right thing to do, instead of listening to - paying attention to - what her fear was trying to tell her. One didn't "break the rules" - EVER - for ANY REASON.
GS: here is the story of my road trip. I got in the car Saturday morning. I drove west for 6 or 7 hours, through my old "stomping grounds". I didn't think or ponder anything. I didn't even sing along with the radio/CD very much... I just drove. When I got "home" I enjoyed the horses, the buggies, the late afternoon light. Then: I drove past my old house to check on the old Oak tree that I felt was like one of Tolkein's Ents - it looked out for me and comforted me.
The Oak tree was gone. Completely. Not even a stump. The old trailer that I detested was still there. The old house that was such a comfort to Twiggy... but not a trace of the tree. I sat there in amazement trying to understand this. The tree has always been there - I moved away in 1980 - and the tree has always been there. Not a few branches gone - the whole tree gone. And then I remembered: there was a bad storm the night my H.S. president died. His ex-wife is my best friend and still lives near that town - and her house caught fire that night and we talked shortly after. I'd looked at pictures on the local newspaper website in hopes that I'd see a picture of the tree still there.
Then I drove downtown and completely lived the old Pretenders song: I went back to Ohio and my city was gone. As gone as the Oak tree. Only two businesses left that were there when I left town - and I bought dinner at one and a paper at another - then went back to my hotel.
The next day, I got up early to mist and the promise of warmer temps... and drove another 6-7 hours. I was too early to check into my hotel so I called my brother to talk over some business matters for our meeting on Monday and he suggested I drive to his place, instead of going directly to the hotel. We met with the person we were negotiating a new contract for, that evening and I drove on to my hotel.
Monday we had the meeting and I found myself having to define a boundary - which I did with minimal hestitation. After the meeting, I had lunch with my brother and let him twist my arm into going with him to my Dad's house, which is now empty of all furnishings except those my brother has decided to keep. I knew he needed to process his emotions more - but damn, I had no clue how many emotions and how deeply and how far back they were attached. He is in great pain right now. And completely overwhelmed by the facts of what he has inherited. He simply can't process any of the business information, because of the personal emotions.
Then I got in my car and drove another 6-7 hours to my best friend's house, in my home town. I've been there many times - but I got lost and had to call her twice, because I was disoriented about where I was. She had tried to call me - but I sent her the wrong cell phone number in email. It was OK; it was funny. Then we had the best pizza in the world and I bought some to bring home to my hubby. We got in the hot tub until I was almost asleep - even though the night time temp was 34 degrees - and the next day I drove 6-7 hours to get back home.
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All this time on the road, I wasn't thinking or pondering a THING. I was simply paying attention to driving. Watching my speed, looking for cops, trying to stay on time without a ticket between stops, and stopping to pee along the way. (Diuretics, ya know?) Light another cigarette, drink some water or coffee or lemonade... stop, get gas, pee...
It's a long way from the east coast to the eastern side of Lake Michigan.
And while I was driving, I became aware of this FEAR that came out of nowhere so many times... it had no real point to it, either. It was just a "What IF"...
What if - I missed an exit?
What if - I forgot where I was - thought I was somewhere else - and made a wrong turn?
What if - I got lost?
What if - I completely dissociated and drove into oncoming traffic?
In other words: what if I did something completely STUPID and killed my self?
And over the course of a 1000 miles or so, I realized that the WHAT IFs were related to whether I was paying attention to myself or not. I.E., - was I paying attention to the FEAR?
This kind of fear is necessary for survival. This kind of paying attention, too. It was fear telling me I had a need that needed to be addressed - that I was letting myself slide into "white line fever" (a form of hypnosis), that I was afraid of forgetting where I was and being embarassed by not remembering and looking like a complete dimwit - that I was afraid I wouldn't do what I needed to do to get to my next destination.
This kind of fear is COMPLETELY different than what I've known of anxiety. It's the kind of fear I experienced when Twiggy received the phone call from the rapist. And the kind of fear I experienced, when I realized I hadn't been paying attention and he was within 50 ft. of me. The same kind of fear I felt, when he pulled a gun. (Edit in: this will make a lot more sense, if I explain that if I'd listened to my fear - instead of adults who were WRONG - with all their rules - I would've fled and not been there when the rapist showed up. But no - I was always told my fear was my imagination running away with me... sigh.)
Then, as Twiggy - and now 40 years later - I realize there is another kind of fear. One that bound me to other people's expectations of me; one that insisted that I follow the "rules" - or ELSE. A fear that insisted I "not be" my SELF - because it was "against the rules" my mother insisted on. To the point - well, you know - I became someone else to survive. Because who I was, in reality, was NOT OK... according to Mother. I was afraid of the "OR ELSE".
Well, duh! I did get lost - twice. And no one made fun of me. I did space out on the road - and got off the road at the next possible point, and stretched, breathed in fresh air and talked to human beings. I listened to, respected, and TRUSTED my fear. On instinct. Without consciousness of doing it. I just DID it.
I got home Tuesday evening. Today, I just processed that experience and finally understand that there are different kinds of fear and not ALL of them are bad. In fact: learning to listen to - and act on - my primal fear makes me whole in some undefinable, mysterious way. That kind of fear, I NEED to pay attention to. The other kind - PPPSHHH! who cares? It's just "programming". It really isn't important at all.
Trusting my fear to tell me what I need to pay attention to, is something that I'm just now learning. And it's very, very important.
A LOT more important that worrying about how I look, act & appear to other people. Really: who cares?
Either they like me as I am - or they don't. The world won't come to an end, if they don't.
And I found out that it's also possible to do this with my Mom, as well. She barely noticed.
How about that?
