There is something new about me, and if you look at me you probably won’t notice it, but I’m bigger on the inside. Fear makes you smaller, fear shrinks you inside of yourself until you’re huddling in the corner of the basement somewhere, afraid to move. I’d felt that kind of fear squeezing me tighter and tighter over the last years, and I didn’t like it, but didn’t know what to do about it. So I made a list. I’m a great list maker. I make lists every day. I love to check things off. If I do extra things, I write those down at the bottom of the list, then check them off. Here’s my list:
What Fears I Will Conquer
Fear of flying
Fear of dental work
Fear of amusement rides (kind of, you know - they’re jarring to your psyche)
Fear of germs
I’m sure I’ll keep adding to the list as the fears make themselves known, but that’s a good start. My fear of flying absolutely started on 9/11, and the part I hate the most is that it’s so CLICHE, and I am anything but cliche, but on second thought, I AM cliche, because it started then. My fear of dental work started a few years ago with an infected tooth, then another infected tooth, then a re-root canal, then a root canal, then a tooth extraction - a lot of infections and pain and near-death experience with some novacaine. Fear of amusement rides - okay, that’s kind of silly, but it was more like the feeling that I’m so physically and emotionally fragile that the rides will be too hard on me somehow. Baloney. Fear of germs - that little sucker started with Mom’s superbug invasion in the hospital, followed by my freaky thumb staph infection over Christmas - invisible little killers just waiting to hurt us! Where’s the Purex? Heeeeeeeeelp!
I’m really a good portion through my fear of flying, having made it all the way down to Florida and back with no alcohol or calming homeopathics. I think I’m even a little all right with turbulence. Dental work I’m still working on the trust issues as I get pangs of ouchies in some of those offending teeth, but I think it’s more of jaw problems from the extraction than the teeth themselves, so I’ll keep striding confidently forward with my teeth leading the way. The good thing that’s come out of that whole thing is that I religiously floss once a day and brush twice a day - thoroughly. Fear of germs - well, I wanted to take my Purex on the plane and scrub down the arm rests, seatbelts and trays, but I didn’t. I didn’t touch them too much, either, and washed my hands a lot.
The result is that that nasty old anxiety that starts in my belly and creeps up into my chest, expanding while I feel myself shrinking, doesn’t rear its head that much anymore, and when it does, it feels smaller to me, like a baby snake and not an anaconda. I like how that feels. I feel more solid, more powerful, more capable, like I can do anything. And I think I WANT to do everything - I’m young, healthy, and I’ve got a lot of things I want to do. Hey - I think I’ll start another list - What I Want to Do Before I Die. Better get started on that, and yes, if fear DOES have a butt, I have indeed kicked it a good one. I hope it’s running off in fear somewhere so it can feel what it feels like to be afraid. It’s not very much fun now, is it, Fear? But somehow I don’t think Fear is afraid of anything, because Fear is more of a feeling, a ‘lack of’ feeling, if that makes sense. But so what - a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero dies but one. I’m tired of dying a million little deaths - I’ll just save up for the big one - in about 45 years. Until then? I’m living la Dolce Vita, baby, la Dolce Vita.