fear (redux)

I contemplate this blog in an effort to preserve the transparency I hold in such high esteem.
In the last blog I wrote about what my fears are not. Easier than writing about what they are.

While I do not fear death itself, I fear the circumstances. Particularly, I fear dying alone.
Not alone in the literal sense - you never know when you might be hit by a truck or an errant bolt of lightning or choke on a chicken wing. I mean alone in the relational sense. The cosmic sense.
I mean dying alone in the way that my father will die alone. Having abused and alienated everyone he ever had and loved, having no one and nothing. Alone in his bed with no one to hold his hand or see him through to the other side. No one to pay the ferryman.

I can't imagine anything worse.

On the 11th he turned 69. I've often imagined that if he died at home it might be weeks or even months before anyone knew.
Or, perhaps he would go the way of his son and just disappear. The skeleton of a John Doe to be found years later by hikers venturing far from the path. His final resting place an evidence box in the local sheriff's office.

I fear, even though I have proven it wrong, that I will be unloved. In my final days, my hour of need, there will be no outstretched hands. I fear that I will die suffocated by the knowledge that I ruined everything I ever had and everyone I ever touched.

That... is my greatest fear.

I also fear losing my mind.
I fear that I will be an abuser.
I used to fear that I would never find "the one." I don't fear that anymore, but that's for another blog. Possibly the next.
I also used to fear the blindness that this yearning caused. I was fearful of my tendency to force things into spaces where they should not be. Like my temperamental grandfather, who used to become so enraged at jigsaw puzzles that he would take out his pocket knife and carve the pieces until they fit in the spaces he felt they should.
Sometimes I fear losing things that I love. Sometimes I fear losing things that I don't even have yet, or may never have. People in particular. I fear my reaction, knowing my predilection for a deadly sort of depression (even being this far removed from it and healthier than ever. It never feels quite so far away).
I worry that my worst qualities will continue to grow. I worry that my laziness will keep me from enlightenment, or from even embarking on the journey.
I fear that if I ever become a parent I won't be a good one.
I do not fear that I will be a bad partner. I know I am a good partner. I am puzzled by the distinction, as I had the same poor models for both parenting and marriage (though admittedly I have witnessed and participated in more relationships than I have had parents).
Sometimes I fear my anger.

As I am thinking about this, thinking very hard about the things I fear, it occurs to me that I don't actually fear many things.

But you don't need to. The things I do fear can be all-consuming.
The things I do fear are dreadfully commonplace. Being alone. Unlovability. Failure.

I am not afraid of heights or enclosed spaces or snakes or clowns or ghosts or public speaking or bats or rodents or lightning or people a different color than me. I'm not really afraid of much of anything, in that way.

Well, I'm not mad about spiders. But it's not a hysterical fear. I can get close enough to throw a shoe at them or, in recent years, relocate them if they seem friendly enough. I feel the same way about Richard Simmons. Though I imagine I would stay more than a shoe's-throw away if I saw him.
Water makes me a bit nervous. People say I'm afraid of water and I insist that I am not. I drink it and take frequent showers and even enjoy baths and rainstorms. However, I can't swim. It's drowning I am afraid of. Seems like unpleasant business and I wouldn't care to try it.

In writing this... what initially felt like a vulnerable and honest expose... now feels... simple. Mundane.
Normal.
It's what everyone feels.
There is a slight bit of comfort in the normalcy of it. And a good amount of sadness in the normalcy of it. How sad for us! So much fear.

How happy for us. So much opportunity to overcome fear.

I liked the example Robina gave this evening.
When Lance Armstrong set out to become the greatest cyclist on earth, he did not wish to ride downhill. He relished the steepest inclines, as it gave him opportunity to realize his goal. Without the challenges, without those parts that break other cyclists and most people wish to avoid, he would not have realized the goal.
Thus is the way of enlightenment it would seem... more practically, it's the way of happiness.

If only I could always keep this revelation fresh in my mind. Perhaps with practice.

The wise ones urge us to continue digging through our darkness. To face our fears and bad habits and bad karma and weaknesses and call ourselves out with maitri and no excuses. It requires patience, wisdom... control over emotions that I certainly do not have as of yet.
Perhaps with practice.


"The world breaks everyone
and afterward many are strong in the broken places.
But those that will not break it kills."
-Ernest Hemingway