The Nature of Fear

I read a book once where these people wanted to master their fears so they would go into a simulation and face them. The only way to get out of the simulation was to "conquer" the fear, or get your heart rate down. I think most people had fifteen or sixteen fears. Some had less. All I could think about was that if I lived in that world, I would spend hours in that simulation. Because I am afraid of almost everything: spiders, lions, monsters, bigfoot, rejection, abandonment, snakes, drowning, social interaction, public speaking, you name it. They are all things that have haunted my nightmares since I was a child. You may think I'm being dramatic. I'm pretty sure that I'm really afraid of all those things. And more. But I also happen to be something of a masochist.

When I was younger two of my biggest fears were falling to the earth, and falling into the sky. I used to have dreams that I was floating up into the sky and couldn't stop myself. I would float up past the swing set, past the trees, past the airplanes, desperately trying to grab hold of something. Then I would wake up. The funny thing is that one of my favorite things to do was fly with my dad. Oddly enough, an airplane seems to balance between those two forces of gravity and upward pressure.

My dad would give me the controls and have me climb to 5000 feet. I would pull the nose back, everything inside me screaming that this was the end of the world and I would never be able to get back down again. It was worse was when he told me to level off and I would push that yoke forward and watch with a sick stomach as the nose tilted forward. Even worse was when he told me to descend at 1000ft/min and I had to push that nose even further down, toward the ground thousands of feet below us. But what was worst of all was when he decided we should do a little stall. Cut the engine. Point the nose down. Recover. Do CPR on Beth because she stopped breathing.

But I kept going back for more. Because I was determined to love flying, in spite of the fears. I was determined to face the fears.

And of course my dad never had to do CPR on me. I don't think he ever knew how afraid I was. Because when I am afraid--really, truly, desperately afraid--I don't cry, or scream, or grimace. I stare, blank faced and catch my breath. It's like my ultimate defense mechanism. Maybe I think that if Fear doesn't know that I am afraid, everything will be okay. The downside is that no one else ever knows I'm afraid, either. Well, that's not entirely true. I switch it up a bit, and sometimes I do react a little bit. But on the big fears, I usually don't.

It's a strange way to live life: forever walking a line between deadly fears. Never retreating for long. Only hiding to catch my breath before charging forward again. I don't know if it makes me brave, or stupid, or masochistic. I do think it makes me stronger.

And sometimes it just makes me tired...