LJ Idol: The Other Side, Freedom
For my 40th birthday, I gave myself the best gift I have ever been given. I gave myself permission to Not Give a Fuck about anything that didn’t deserve them. This gift comes on the heels of nearly a decade of therapy, of tearing myself apart from the inside and rebuilding myself as I want to be, and has cost me nearly everything, $1000s of dollars and enough deep breaths to float the Hindenburg.
You see, somewhere about half a decade back I realized that so many things I did to protect myself actually harmed me. They felt good - or at least normal. But they harmed me all the same.
I was afraid of too many things - and I don’t want to be afraid like that anymore.
He’s thinking you’re an idiot. Stop talking now. You have nothing to say that won’t put you in danger.
Ah, there it is. The crux of so many of my current maladapted behaviors - fear. Fear of being judged, fear of being hurt and harmed by someone that was supposed to care about me, fear of proving them right (and an even deeper fear of proving them wrong, because how could they be wrong? They are supposed to love me, goddammit!)
Fear used to be my ally. It used to protect me from inexplicable mood swings, the occasional backhand from left field, the disgust and disdain of those that claimed to love me more than anyone else ever could. Fear was my friend. Fear helped me survive. Fear guided my steps and made me so aware - hyper-aware - of other’s moods. I got so good at reading people that it felt like I could read their very minds.
Quick, be cute! Quick, be quiet! Quick, be gone!
That look means he’s frustrated. Time to be soothing. Offer to get him a drink.
That look means he’s angry. Time to go outside. Forget your shoes. Forget your jacket. Forget everything and just GO.
That look means he’s happy. Go and hug him, so he knows you love him so so so much and he won’t hurt you later.
Once I left for college, I thought I left fear at home, unpacked amongst the clothes that I no longer wanted. It had been years since I needed fear on a daily basis. I grew, I thrived, I became someone that I liked.
But fear lingered insidiously. It cropped up in places that I never thought I’d need to root it out. It happened in the moments my boyfriend frowned at me and I winced. It happened in moments when my boss asked to speak to me, and I had to swallow bile. It happened in moments that my friends looked to me for strength and my knees shook.
Unchecked - because it was ignored - it grew. Relationships faltered. I stopped thriving and started to wilt.
No more.
I fought back - but fear knew me. It knew everything about me. It had built me in my youth after all. The process of rebuilding was painful and long. It took as much time to undo the damage as it had taken for the damage to be done.
30. 31. 32. Tears. Anger. Therapy.
33. Rage. 34. Denial.
35. No one knows you. You don’t even know yourself.
36. Healing. 37. Hope.
38. Grace.
39. Forgive yourself. You saved yourself with fear. It is a tool that you no longer need. Lay it down.
40. Trust yourself.
Fear is the old friend that you nod at when you see them in the grocery store. It still knows me. It built me after all, cared for me, saved me.
Fear is my enemy. It harms me, cuts me off from the life I want, whispers lies about cowering when I was born to SOAR.
We are many things, fear and me. But we will never be strangers. We have an uneasy truce at the moment. Maybe it’s the best to hope for, but going forward, when my guts clench, and my breath hitches, and my brow sweats - I will ask myself if I give a fuck.
More times than not, I don’t.
Time to be free.
This entry was written for therealljidol 05: “My enemies are all too familiar. They're the ones who used to call me friend.” If there is one, I will share the poll. Thanks.
My title is taken from the following quote by Marilyn Ferguson: Ultimately, we know deeply that the other side of every fear is a freedom.
You see, somewhere about half a decade back I realized that so many things I did to protect myself actually harmed me. They felt good - or at least normal. But they harmed me all the same.
I was afraid of too many things - and I don’t want to be afraid like that anymore.
He’s thinking you’re an idiot. Stop talking now. You have nothing to say that won’t put you in danger.
Ah, there it is. The crux of so many of my current maladapted behaviors - fear. Fear of being judged, fear of being hurt and harmed by someone that was supposed to care about me, fear of proving them right (and an even deeper fear of proving them wrong, because how could they be wrong? They are supposed to love me, goddammit!)
Fear used to be my ally. It used to protect me from inexplicable mood swings, the occasional backhand from left field, the disgust and disdain of those that claimed to love me more than anyone else ever could. Fear was my friend. Fear helped me survive. Fear guided my steps and made me so aware - hyper-aware - of other’s moods. I got so good at reading people that it felt like I could read their very minds.
Quick, be cute! Quick, be quiet! Quick, be gone!
That look means he’s frustrated. Time to be soothing. Offer to get him a drink.
That look means he’s angry. Time to go outside. Forget your shoes. Forget your jacket. Forget everything and just GO.
That look means he’s happy. Go and hug him, so he knows you love him so so so much and he won’t hurt you later.
Once I left for college, I thought I left fear at home, unpacked amongst the clothes that I no longer wanted. It had been years since I needed fear on a daily basis. I grew, I thrived, I became someone that I liked.
But fear lingered insidiously. It cropped up in places that I never thought I’d need to root it out. It happened in the moments my boyfriend frowned at me and I winced. It happened in moments when my boss asked to speak to me, and I had to swallow bile. It happened in moments that my friends looked to me for strength and my knees shook.
Unchecked - because it was ignored - it grew. Relationships faltered. I stopped thriving and started to wilt.
No more.
I fought back - but fear knew me. It knew everything about me. It had built me in my youth after all. The process of rebuilding was painful and long. It took as much time to undo the damage as it had taken for the damage to be done.
30. 31. 32. Tears. Anger. Therapy.
33. Rage. 34. Denial.
35. No one knows you. You don’t even know yourself.
36. Healing. 37. Hope.
38. Grace.
39. Forgive yourself. You saved yourself with fear. It is a tool that you no longer need. Lay it down.
40. Trust yourself.
Fear is the old friend that you nod at when you see them in the grocery store. It still knows me. It built me after all, cared for me, saved me.
Fear is my enemy. It harms me, cuts me off from the life I want, whispers lies about cowering when I was born to SOAR.
We are many things, fear and me. But we will never be strangers. We have an uneasy truce at the moment. Maybe it’s the best to hope for, but going forward, when my guts clench, and my breath hitches, and my brow sweats - I will ask myself if I give a fuck.
More times than not, I don’t.
Time to be free.
This entry was written for therealljidol 05: “My enemies are all too familiar. They're the ones who used to call me friend.” If there is one, I will share the poll. Thanks.
My title is taken from the following quote by Marilyn Ferguson: Ultimately, we know deeply that the other side of every fear is a freedom.