Reflections on Fear and Letting Go of Control
I can’t change others, but I can change myself
Have you ever made a life-changing decision, felt like it was completely right in every way, and then become crippled with fear? Maybe this is the trajectory for every life-changing decision.
And then the universe has a way of saying, “Oh hell no, this is completely what you’re meant to be doing. You are making the right choice.”
This is happening to me right now, in this present moment. Hopefully, by the time you read this, I’ll be on the other side. When it’s time to coast downhill. When it’s time to reap what I’ve sown. The benefits of hard labor, a job well done, a fear squelched.
Fear’s a weird thing.
It’s thick, cloying, and accosts all five senses. Your heart races, your throat tightens, sometimes a bitter taste floods your mouth.
Not everyone reacts the same but we all know it when we feel it. And there have been thousands of articles on why; dating back to the saber tooth tiger example. There are thousands of articles on every aspect of fear. How to move past it. Why you should butt it in the head, like a mad conquistador. Conquer it, do not let it conquer you.
What if this story is about other people’s reactions instead? (Spoiler: it’s not)
To come clean, I’m obsessed with psychology.
My need to know why is almost visceral. I recently had a Human Design reading and apparently, this is part of my chart. Cool. Another explanation to be labeled and put into its perfectly sized “why” box. I love that. Which is why this part of the process is testing my everything. And, that’s a different article, I’ve no doubt I will write when I’m ready.
Can you believe I’ve written five paragraphs and I’ve yet to get to the freaking point of this article!?
I’ve written, podcasted, and even YouTubed about the lack of support I’m getting (or not getting LOL) from my “so-called community” where I’ve lived, worked (in healthcare, giving back at no cost to the patients), and participated in for almost twenty years.
To give or to receive? That is not the question.
I have a giving nature, it’s a huge part of who I am. And not everyone has been unkind, or unsupportive, or unhelpful. But…. Oh yes, there’s always a but — out of the four hundred plus (yes, I can actually count them!) people that have been in my life for these past twenty years, and some that I have not known quite as long, five have offered true help and emotional support.
The rest have either feigned apathy, been outright apathetic/disinterested, or told me to my face that they don’t care what’s going on with me. This makes me want to laugh maniacally while crying myself into a winter-long sleep hibernation.
The latest incident was this…
I applied for a pretty fun writing job online that I have all of the qualifications for. But I thought of a friend and sent it to him too. We had a few emails back and forth. I kept asking how he and his wife were because I really care. I love them. He told me and then asked me to look at something for him and give my opinion/advice/critique on it before October. It was based on something I had done semi-successfully in the past.
We’d exchanged four emails each, back and forth and he’d never once asked me how I was. So in my last email to him, I said I would look at what he’d sent but it may be a little while because I was going through “a major life change”. This morning he responded but not with “wow, I’m sorry to hear that, is there anything I can do? Listen perhaps?” Or “Really, what’s going on?” Nope, his response was another ask. He sent me the information he submitted to the company about the job and asked me to look it over.
*head exploding emoji here*
I’ve stopped expecting empathetic responses. I’ve stopped expecting people to care because they just don’t. I’ve told another half dozen “friends” that I’m moving from my apartment into a van. And some say “I’m so jealous, that’s awesome, wish I could do that” but they don’t ask to see me before I leave or to see the van. They don’t ask me if I’m afraid. They don’t ask me if I need any help.
A little over a week ago I was at a 12-step meeting. It was filled with people I’ve known throughout my thirteen years of recovery. I wanted to tell them that I would be leaving California in a couple of weeks and this was the last time they would see me. I wanted to hug them and tell them I would miss them. I wanted to say that I wished them the best and hoped to see them online. But I also wanted to tell them about my adventure, to share my excitement, vulnerability, and apprehension. I drove my van there and I wanted to show it to them.
Looking back, I see that my motivations were not completely pure.
They were about me, me, me. The narcissism that I see so clearly in others. Projection right?! I know we’re all this way to some extent, some more than others, obviously. So that was one of my narcissistic moments, even if I’m the only one who knew. (well now you all know because I’m telling on myself LOL)
After the meeting, I tried talking to a few people but they didn’t have the time or maybe they just weren’t interested. I approached someone I’ve known for the entire thirteen years I’ve been in recovery, someone who’d confided in me and I like to think, I’ve been there for.
He said, “I haven’t seen you in a while (covid). How are you?”
I said, “not well, I’m going through a lot and really suffering.”
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Yeah, well I don’t want to hear about it.” And then he swiveled on a heel and sauntered away.
I stood still, mouth agape, dumbstruck for half a second, and then… I burst out laughing and practically ran out of the building. I giggled, somewhat madly, all the way home.
That was the antidote to my fear.
The universe saying, “Yup, it’s time for you to go. People here don’t care about you.”
And not in a “poor me” way. In a realistic way. And that’s fine. These people are not my people. They don’t have my back. And they’re busy. They all have families. I don’t. I count on my friends to be my family of choice.
True friendship.
I’m so glad that the five friends who have come through, do have my back. A few of them surprised me, they weren’t people I thought would offer to help. But they did and they continue to do so.
And the rest… they have their own friends, people they truly do care about and will go out of their way to help. Turns out, I’m not on that list. At least I know now.
Getting hurt doesn’t have to destroy us, it can be a lesson instead.
I am that person who gives indiscriminately when someone needs help or when I think I can help someone, and sometimes I get hurt. I got hurt today and last week and I’m sure I’ll get hurt next week too. But so what?
Does that mean I should stop giving or caring about others? Nope. Does that mean I should jump into 24/7 narcissistic behavior? Nope. Should I try to change them? Not possible. Talk to them? Perhaps. Ghost them? Maybe.
What if… I just accept them for who they are and where they’re at (as long as they’re not malicious) and look at it through the lens of “they’re all doing the best they can”? Definitely.
So what was the point of this article?
Was it about disappointment and heartache?
I don’t think so.
- It’s about hope.
- It’s about family of choice, not family of origin.
- It’s about facing fear, walking through it, and doing the hard thing anyway.
- It’s about squashing expectations or trying to.
- It’s about accepting others, even (especially) if what they’re showing you is someone you don’t want to be friends with.
- It’s about choice. You don’t have to be friends with them if they hurt you but you can’t change them either.
Acceptance, complete.
