And A Lie (Part Two)

November 9, 2014

And A Lie (Part Two)

There is a simple lie I must tell myself repeatedly as it helps me to hold my head straight enough to make it through the day.  It’s hard to face the lies that we tell ourselves, but sometimes it’s best to just be honest.  I can go back to denial later. Until then, here it is in its entirety beginning with the simple and original statement and the varying degrees of the lie from the ridiculous to the genuinely paralyzing in no particular order.

·         I am not afraid.  In fact there is a long list of things that terrify me.

o   Sleeping with the light off.

• Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been terrified to sleep with the light off.  When I was seven, my step father pulled me out of bed by my hair.  I wasn’t sleeping under my sheets and apparently the offense was great enough to pull me out of bed, and knock me unconscious.  I woke surprised to find a large knot on the back of my head.  I was also under my sheets. So in turn, I became afraid of the dark, and the things that lurk in the shadowy places inside the mind, and inside the home.

o   Failure

• It’s inevitable, but to those few perfectionists out there, the potential for failure is devastating.  I know I should perceive failure as a learning opportunity but the fear of failure is so great, so intense, that I can’t make myself get past it and actually try.

o   Divorce

• It’s not the divorce itself that scares me.  That piece of it is necessary.  The final, legal division to cut the cord that’s been wrapped around my finger. It’s the interruption in the lives of my children that would guarantee an invitation to possible permanent damage at the hand or the word of their father. His hurting them, even a little scares the crap out of me. We are in a good place where we’re happy, where we’re safe. I want better for them than to have to go back to a life that would instill fear or insecurity in them. It’s the fear that I won’t be able to prove the truth without a cost to my children. They have already paid so much.

o   Falling in love

• More terrifying than getting a divorce is falling in love again.  I didn’t fall in love with the wasband. I fell in love with the idea of love. The idea of marriage and how a ring works similar to a band aid, though at the time, I looked at it more as a circle, a never ending circle of commitment.  In good times, and bad, it’s sure tough to fill the role of family obligation by yourself when you’re the only one in the relationship that sees it that way. 

o   Never falling in love

•  I know what it means to be in love. I have been engaged 9 times. The last of course is still holding for the time being, but after the papers are signed, I may be young enough still to bump into the right fella. Will it matter then?  Have I had my chance and just screwed it up six ways from Sunday?  I’ve got a pretty big, and fully functional heart, but I don’t know.  I have a fairly short list of requirements beginning with: “Don’t be a douchebag,” followed immediately as an afterthought; “also be attractive and smart.” It’s not a long list, I just think it needs to be a fraction more selective.  

o   Car accidents

•   Less terrifying than divorce and falling in love, I’m scared of being in a car accident.  I already drive like someone’s grandmother.  (Likely because my grandmother taught me to drive) I just think if anyone were ever hurt at my hand, it would crush me.  If someone else were injured, I’m not sure I could perform first aid with a steady hand and an accurate memory.

o   Escalators.

• I’m horrified by the idea of getting stuck on, or falling off of an escalator. I can see it now, tumbling down an endless cycle of perforated metal steps end over end as I’m hacked and bruised to bits before I’m catapulted into Sears in a horribly bloody mess at the other end of the mall.

o   Flying

•   Hollow metal tube thousands of feet above the ground, and the force of gravity?  I just don’t like the odds, despite the reality of physics. What if the ass end of that thing rips off?  A flotation device isn’t gonna help me then.  Where’s my parachute?  Assuming I’ll still be conscious after the loss of cabin pressure.

o   Equations

• I’m not sure if it’s the combination of numbers and letters that confounds me, or if it’s the endless number of formulas and steps in said formulas that I can’t seem to keep in line much less comprehend. I will say simply: thank GOD no one’s life depends on my ability to use a scientific calculator.

o   Irrational fears of unspeakable things happening to my children

• I think there’s a hormone that’s released during pregnancy that stimulates a latent genetic code enabling women to envision a shameful number of horrible incidents that could befall her most precious and helpless offspring. From gut wrenching vivid nightmares to horribly graphic daydreams, once you become a Mom, the world becomes a ticking time bomb and Moms must be ever vigilant.

o   Running out of gas on the freeway late at night

o   Large white or black vans without windows

o   Getting stung by a bee and not knowing I’m deathly allergic and in need of an epi-pen

o   Discovering I’m not really a good mom

o   Freakish and unexpected success from any publication

o   Standing in front of a group and speaking, or singing at Karaoke in front of people.  (I am working on this one.)

o   Clowns – Actually, I’m not really afraid of clowns.  I think some of them are creepy, when designed to be so, but not really scary.

o   Spiders.  Creepy bugs of all sorts – I think anything but butterflies and ladybugs freak me out.  Keep them critters away from me.

o   My skirt flying up on a windy day.  One of the main reasons I don’t like to wear dresses or flowy skirts.  It never fails.  I always pick the windy day.

o   Confrontation with the ex or his girlfriend.  I’m terrified I’ll do something stupid and violent.  I’m not typically, in fact, I was only ever in a fight once, when I was ten.  I punched the girl in the nose, and blood burst all over my hands and her face.  She ran home screaming.  I cried all night. Just because I don’t have it in me, doesn’t mean that I couldn’t.

o   Talking to people.  For a time, I think I was agoraphobic.  I would only leave the house at night with my friend Beth.  She’d drive me to the gas station or to Denny’s for coffee.  I hated to get out of the car, to be seen, or to speak to people.  Since that time in my life, I try to go out of my way to talk to at least one person, one stranger a day.  Even if it’s just to say hello.

 I think at the end of it all, I have to accept that I'm just going to have to be afraid, and then do what I need to do anyway. I'm never really going to get over it, but it will get easier.  Eventually.  When I make it to the other side, it may be as bad as I imagined it would. It may be hysterical, humbling or not all I made it out to be.