I’ve been thinking a lot about fear lately.
My choices, my decisions, my reactions, my expectations. The experiences I’ve had, the things I’ve said yes to, no to, or worried about in between before deciding yes or no, well, fear has had a role. Sometimes a starring role.
Big whoop. So who doesn’t have fear? But even after knowing we all have fear in common, our problems are still here, waiting for us. Knowing may help me feel better for a bit, but after a while I get lost in the what ifs and the should or shouldn’t haves and I’m in my own world again.
Over the years I’ve heard about “letting go” but like a lot of things that sound good and maybe make me feel good for about a nanosecond, I’ve never really understood it. I classified it as one of those higher power things for the truly gifted, like the monks and the enlightened. And to be totally honest, I often don’t want to let it go. I want answers. I want justification. I want victory.
But lately, I’m looking at letting go with a more open mind. I mean, holding on hasn’t exactly laid inner peace at my feet. Holding on, I’m discovering, takes a lot of energy, and has a righteous scent to it. If feels like you’re doing your job, paying your dues, whatever. And after a day, month or years, something I’ve held on to that’s now acceptable is usually because I was too tired or too spent after the struggle. If I look under the surface, it’s because in the end, I let go.
I think it’s the reason why some things don’t hurt anymore, like losing some friendships. I had this storybook idea since I was a kid of what a good friendship looked like. You became friends since day one, you shared things, did everything together. So anytime I made a friend, that’s what I wanted to see happen. Badly. Those friendships fell apart, every time. I started to back off, then got cynical and bitter.
Over time, I dropped the cynical and bitter part, and just backed off. Later still, I wizened up and began to stay open. I let go of expectation and my old ideas of what friendships should be. Since then I’ve met the most wonderful people, they’ve told me things and I’ve told them things, real things, and I’ve been having so much fun. Yes, some things hurt along the way but I’m able to let those go. It’s more liberating than I could’ve ever imagined.
There are some other areas of my life where, for some reason, I’m reluctant to let go. They feel too important for that, too serious. And I’ve been holding on so tight that I’ve found myself holding on to nothing while life passes me by. It scares me. Welcome to the Big Leagues, says fear. I know it’s instinctive to self-protect but at times I’ve done it so much I’ve closed myself off from life. You can’t live life if you’re busy shielding yourself from it.
But how do you let go of the big fears in life? If you can’t control your life, then what do you do? What are you left with?
I’ve been reading, trying to find answers. There are plenty of people smarter and wiser than me, and I bet they’ve figured this stuff out. Here’s a confession, though: a small part of me, way in the back and in the dark, doesn’t want to find out. It means everything could change and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
The consensus, it seems, is to not wait till the fears go away. Which sounds ridiculously obvious but ask me how often I’ve caught myself wishing or doing just that in real life situations. Plenty.
The other consensus is to move through it. Enter: letting it go. Not avoidance, not figuring it out, not thinking and processing it, because all that only feeds fear and makes it bigger. Letting go, from what I understand, is to see it, acknowledge it, letting it come up inside you and as quickly as possible, releasing it. Release it by relaxing, smiling, breathing, laughing, anything that opens you rather than closes. And quickly, before you gather steam and speed downward on a negative spiral; it’s gets more difficult the longer you wait.
Well, easier said than done. How many of us fear rejection? As an example, let’s take writing. My fear of rejection is pretty strong. Should I bother writing my next book? I’ve stopped and stalled on writing it so many times that I’ve questioned if I have anything worthwhile to say. See, fear is written all over that. And I’ve been holding on to it so tight that some days I’ve not written a single word. The fear prophecy is coming true; if I don’t write it, it’s guaranteed no one will read it.
But we have even bigger fears than that. Loneliness. Feeling good enough. Failure. Success. Being loved, or not.
I want to be the kind of person who’s brave, who can change, who can let the fear rise up and then release it, but I honestly don’t know if I have what it takes. The best thing any one of us can do is to take one step at a time and do our best.
We can be aware each time we feel fear, then try to release it.
We can see it for what it is instead of giving into it.
We can start small. The next potential argument, or an old memory; each trigger is an opportunity.
We can start today.
Will it work? Is letting go worth it?
There’s only one way to find out.
After half a century of pain, I finally accepted the strategy of analyzing what was within my control, what was not, and working on the former while simply acknowledging the latter with a nod and a wry smile (or tears, whatever expressed the emotion at hand. Heart. Whatever.)
For me, “letting go” meant letting go of trying to control what I can’t control. Including my feelings about what I can’t control (see my nonexistent article on meta-letting-go.)
I have 4 adult children who haven’t spoken to me, haven’t acknowledged my existence, in the 14 years since their mother divorced me. I think about them every day, miss them every day, cry about it sometimes, laugh at memories sometimes. I have the only pictures I own of them up on my wall.
I’ve let go of forcing them to love me, or to express love to me. I’ve let go of changing their actions. And as a result, I can love them instead of slowly growing bitter. Now, should they someday choose to be part of my life, I will love them instead of going through a period of bitter acceptance which might kill the relationship before it grows.
I’m going through a tough transition regarding my writing. It should be easier to let go of someone’s opinion about my fiction than to let go of thinking my kids don’t love me. Sorry, I’m a writer, it’s not easier. But I’m getting there. I have Hugh McLeod’s “ignore everybody” poster on my desk. It helps.
These are deeper journeys, journeys of inner work, of understanding our selves, and our place in how the world works. They take longer than we wish, but the rewards are deeper than we often fathom. It feels worthy to struggle, but when we realize how futile it is, the load is off our shoulders. I cannot imagine the load you were carrying all these years, but I know it wasn’t small. You are progressing to the next level, and such changes are always reflected in the things close to our heart (in other words, same here, if in a different way).
But would you go back? I doubt it.
PS- I HIGHLY recommend The Untethered Soul, if you haven’t read it.