Thursday, July 25, 2013

There is a little spot on my leg. Its been there a few weeks and it itches. Probably, its the tiniest dot of poison ivy, healing slowly. Probably, its healing slowly because it keeps getting scratched. My mind took these facts a day ago and decided my whole leg was about to be covered with cancer. Shrieking hideous overwhelming death fear gut punched me. As it does from time to time. I've handled this fear (all fear) in a few different ways. Traditionally, just running with it until I could hardly function and then crawling into bed for what amounts to a nice juicy marinade in fear.

I've also practiced breathing through fear. I highly recommend cultivating some form of progressive relaxation practice through meditation. This is an indispensable tool for life. Add radical honesty, sharing how you feel with someone, weeping openly, and accepting comfort. (Hello Dear Husband, I'm waving at you with bottomless gratitude.) Meditation, sharing, weeping, and accepting comfort are all necessary. Each part is easier and harder than it seems--at least, for me. These methods are probably what allowed me to calm down enough to move to the next level of fear management.

A friend of mine pointed out something huge to me a few years ago. She pointed out that claiming to be Spiritual is an empty signifier. We're all good liberal folk of a certain generation, and we've all said this thing, right? "Oh, I don't believe in God. But I am a spiritual person." What does that mean? It could mean anything. Which means it doesn't mean much at all. I've been chewing on that idea for a long while. If you believe in some kind of spirit and you can't say you believe in God, what does that mean?

I crawled into my bed of fear, put my head on a pillow of fear, and pulled the fear covers to my chin. I have a routine dermatology appointment in two weeks, to check on exactly these kinds of spots. Too soon to bother rescheduling. Yet, I knew I was looking at two long weeks, likely morphing into zombie-fear-wife/mother. Fuck that. I thought of something Augusten Boroughs wrote: "Don't pay death twice." If you or someone you know actually is facing death, don't become Fear Zombie for a long time before anything bad even happens. Which is basically paying death twice, giving your whole life to fear and death.

Laying in bed, I said a prayer and I handed the situation over to God. I have no control over most things in life, anyway. So I'm letting go of fear. I'll practice trust, gratitude, and responsible choices instead. I said my prayer, gave it all to God, and had a restful deep peaceful sleep. I woke to a happy productive day yesterday. I loved my children, baby quail, grocery day (which is always good--I even got to see the fat brown eyed toddler), my husband, and my life. It was a while before I even remembered how frightened I'd been the day before.

Which, right?! I have a great life. Even if I were to get horribly sick, I wouldn't want to waste any days as a Fear Zombie. And isn't Fear Zombie Life basically worshiping at the alter of fear? I've heard midwives, Buddhists, Christians, and even a shaman underscore the importance of knowing who you are praying to. Don't pray randomly. Don't pray to emptiness. Don't unwittingly pray to your own ego. And for damn sure, don't pray to fear.

2 comments:

  1. I am so lucky to know you. xo. love, Val

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sitting here thinking? Most of my prayers are for direction:

    "Help me figure this out."

    "Show me what to do."

    "Point out the way, okay? And make it obvious."

    Yes if suddenly we knew days were short, they would not be available to waste on worry.

    Well, all our days are very short. A lifetime whips by. (I can't hardly believe I'm here still without my grandma.)

    I rolled around on the bed this morning with Abby, teasing and laughing and can hardly believe *I* am the grandma now. Me and my mom get to be grandmas together. I couldn't have ever imagined it.

    Yeah, K. Don't waste time on spirits. Go straight to the top. I believe in a real big God, a wild, irreverent, generous God.

    I hope your stupid itchy spot is just a stupid itchy spot, not a problem of any kind. Dermatology abounds with weird itchy spots, and that's a fact.

    Sending my best love always, Val

    ReplyDelete