Fear, in all of it's many disguises, has been on my mind a lot lately. I thought on it a little in my late-night stupor-induced blogging about Ferris Bueller. Fear is a big theme in my life, unfortunately. That's why I want to blog about it.
I live each day in fear. I'm not afraid of spiders, flying, heights, falling from heights, needles, tight spaces, open spaces, rodents, reptiles, public speaking, pervy old men, girls named Carrie, or even Santa Clause. What I am afraid of is much less substantial, less scary, and more debilitating. I'm afraid of failure and success.
What I don't understand is "why?" Because, if I did understand it I wouldn't be scared. Isn't that what psychology is for? Someone listens to you ramble about your problems until you figure them out for yourself? Once you get to 'why'...BAM! CURED! Right?
It would make my life easier, in some ways, to be able to sit down and say that I had a crappy childhood, or that I was sexually abused, etc. and some tears would flow. A gray haired fellow with his legs crossed the girl way would say "Ahh." and "Mhmm." a few times under his breath while doodling pictures in an official looking legal pad. I would pay him a couple hundred dollars and suddenly my life would be all better.
I do not mean to down play the importance of the noble profession of psychology/psychiatry, or belittle those that want/need it's particular breed of science. So, here is my other option:
I could have a short period, such as a few days or weeks, in which I would complete an archetypal story arc and through it all, my life would be permanently changed for the better. I would have a miserable go of it for a bit, and the audience would be emotionally vested in my successes and failures. Then I would have this great epiphany, or maybe save someone's life, solving all my problems.
After one of those possibilities, I would certainly be able to move forward with my life without my fears. I would suddenly be an unstoppable juggernaut of success. I would pity smaller men and their fears, laughing haughtily at all the world threw at me.
Alas, I cannot afford a shrink (nor do I really think that it is a quick fix), and I am not the protagonist in a movie. I'm a man in the real world. Sometimes I live all productively and happy, and life's darts seem to bound right off. Sometimes I am weaker and lower, and I'm pierced very deeply.
I battle on, trying to leave my dastardly, villainous fears behind me as I reach for the next success in my life. They creep in, though. Usually.
The jerks.
Now, how does one overcome fear? If you have a fear of heights, or spiders, or short people, it can be relatively easy. You can avoid them, or overcome them. But what about intangible fears, like mine? I can't avoid them, since I carry them inside me. The prospect of overcoming my fear of success through frequently succeeding seems like a more attractive prospect than overcoming my fear of failure the same way.
But, who knows, really? Rudyard Kipling says success and failure are both impostors. While I am inclined to believe him, he neglected to mention what they really are behind their masks. Maybe I'll get to ask him one day.
Hey, maybe I can just write a blog post about it and be cured? Maybe?
I live each day in fear. I'm not afraid of spiders, flying, heights, falling from heights, needles, tight spaces, open spaces, rodents, reptiles, public speaking, pervy old men, girls named Carrie, or even Santa Clause. What I am afraid of is much less substantial, less scary, and more debilitating. I'm afraid of failure and success.
What I don't understand is "why?" Because, if I did understand it I wouldn't be scared. Isn't that what psychology is for? Someone listens to you ramble about your problems until you figure them out for yourself? Once you get to 'why'...BAM! CURED! Right?
It would make my life easier, in some ways, to be able to sit down and say that I had a crappy childhood, or that I was sexually abused, etc. and some tears would flow. A gray haired fellow with his legs crossed the girl way would say "Ahh." and "Mhmm." a few times under his breath while doodling pictures in an official looking legal pad. I would pay him a couple hundred dollars and suddenly my life would be all better.
I do not mean to down play the importance of the noble profession of psychology/psychiatry, or belittle those that want/need it's particular breed of science. So, here is my other option:
I could have a short period, such as a few days or weeks, in which I would complete an archetypal story arc and through it all, my life would be permanently changed for the better. I would have a miserable go of it for a bit, and the audience would be emotionally vested in my successes and failures. Then I would have this great epiphany, or maybe save someone's life, solving all my problems.
After one of those possibilities, I would certainly be able to move forward with my life without my fears. I would suddenly be an unstoppable juggernaut of success. I would pity smaller men and their fears, laughing haughtily at all the world threw at me.
Alas, I cannot afford a shrink (nor do I really think that it is a quick fix), and I am not the protagonist in a movie. I'm a man in the real world. Sometimes I live all productively and happy, and life's darts seem to bound right off. Sometimes I am weaker and lower, and I'm pierced very deeply.
I battle on, trying to leave my dastardly, villainous fears behind me as I reach for the next success in my life. They creep in, though. Usually.
The jerks.
Now, how does one overcome fear? If you have a fear of heights, or spiders, or short people, it can be relatively easy. You can avoid them, or overcome them. But what about intangible fears, like mine? I can't avoid them, since I carry them inside me. The prospect of overcoming my fear of success through frequently succeeding seems like a more attractive prospect than overcoming my fear of failure the same way.
But, who knows, really? Rudyard Kipling says success and failure are both impostors. While I am inclined to believe him, he neglected to mention what they really are behind their masks. Maybe I'll get to ask him one day.
Hey, maybe I can just write a blog post about it and be cured? Maybe?
