Fear
Fear doesn’t exist anywhere except in the mind. — Dale Carnegie
It’s interesting how we fear so much. We don’t talk about it. In fact, we barely acknowledge its existence. So many people take great pride in making it through the scariest haunted houses. Then we have the horror movies where billions of dollars are made making people scared, and yet it’s taboo to be afraid. I started writing about this in my post, “How long were you afraid of monsters?”, and I think it’s time for me to expand on it.
This has been tough because I’ve been mocked for my fears even as an adult. I remember walking out of the Jack Nicholson/Michelle Pfeiffer movie Wolf with my ex and ex-in-laws not long after moving south. I didn’t want to see the movie, and I definitely didn’t want to see it at night. I was overruled. When we came out, yes, I was scared and wanted to get to the car. I was teased and mocked and ridiculed for that fear, but it was still real.
I was a scared kid, and I tend to be a scared adult. As a kid, vampires were a major fear, so I would sleep year-round in a non-air-conditioned house with the blanket tucked firmly up around my neck. My reasoning? I knew if a vampire were going to bite me, they would have to move the blanket, thus wake me up, thus allowing me to fight back and/or scream for help. I started this practice around 5 or 6 years old and continued it for many years. Drove my parents crazy because I would wake up drenched in sweat during the summer, but I would never relent.
My fear became a real problem when my sister weaponized it against me. I don’t remember exactly when, but around 9 maybe, my parents were gone late every night closing the club and bar. They felt my sister was old enough to “babysit”. Thing was, her room was in the basement — an area of the house that scared me, especially when dark — and she enjoyed my terror of being alone upstairs in the main part of the house, empty, dark, alone. I don’t say this lightly. My parents had directed her to stay upstairs until I was asleep, her response was to go down even earlier. I even remember a few nights sitting at the top of the stairs, too scared to go down, calling down to her, and she just ignored my sobbing pleas.
I also did myself no favors. I was (well, still am) a massively creative person. Every noise, every shadow, every creak became some “thing” set loose in the night. I was terrified every night until my parents got home.
We tried nightlights, but that just created more shadows. We got a clock radio and began my lifelong habit of falling asleep to music. My fear was like a bruise on my shoulder or thigh. But rather than allowing it to heal, allowing me to deal with and overcome these fears, my sister spent all these years where we were alone at night pressing it. Pushing and digging at my fears, expanding them.
As I look back now, she isolated me almost completely. Why? Because you don’t talk about your fears. In fact, you do everything you can to hide the fears, because they are weaknesses people will use against you. She taught me that, so many others confirmed it. People mock you, tease you, and ridicule you. I wasn’t even 10 years old yet, and I knew even adults would use my fears against me. So I closed off, isolated. Became a target. My home was no longer the haven it was supposed to be. And no matter where I was or who I was with, danger lurked in the dark. Bad things happened at night, and my fears did nothing but grow through life.
