To me, fear is a four letter word. It may be the worst four letter word ever. Sometimes it rules my life; it for sure rules my thoughts. It is the enemy of faith so it should also be mine. But it is amazing how most of the time it is my friend.
Fear is easy for me to recognize. I know when it is sitting next to me, yet I willingly invite it in. We have been companions for as long as I can remember...
When I was 9 and I left my Southern home for an East Coast one, fear was there. I can't forget when I would stand up to make a speech in school, my friend gripped me. On my first date, yes, fear was present. When I took that new job, fear said, "you will fail, you cannot do this, you are a phony." And I have listened to its voice.
In every job, in every relationship, in every decision, fear has reigned.
So a few nights ago when my boyfriend whispered in my ear, in the dark, in a hotel room away from the comfort of my home, away from my comfort zone, "What is your greatest fear?" it was like a punch in the stomach.
Oh, I can define my greatest fear. That was not the issue, Having someone so close to me ask the question was in and of itself terrifying. So once again fear had the upper hand. Until I spoke.
To be honest, I did not speak right away. Like I said, I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. But I eventually found my words. I knew WHAT my fears were, but it was if I were afraid that if I said them, they would become more real. The fear of fear was now the elephant in the room. It needed to be extinguished.
So I spoke. "Well, I have two fears," I said. "There's one that involves something outside myself and one that involves me." He was silent, waiting for me to spit it out. Why was this so difficult? I was always able to articulate everything. My opponent was indeed a formidable one!
"My greatest fear is something happening to my kids," I said. Whew! It was out there, as if fear didn't already know this. It kept me up at night while fear smiled his ugly smile, grinning ear to ear. Fear loved it when I worried every time my kids got into a car, loved it when they took a drink...when they entered into a bad relationship.
"I also fear not being enough," I said.
"What do you mean, not enough?" he said.
I explained that, all my life, I'd never felt like I measured up, never felt good enough, never felt like I could keep someone's love. Not being enough...
He tried to reassure me, told me that I was enough, more than enough, for him and for my kids and my friends and for everyone, really. He did his best and I love him for that. He asked me whether God could love me any more than He does right now, if there was anything I could do to have God love me more, if God loved me just as much as anyone else. I answered no, no, yes. I knew all of these things to be truth.
God wasn't the issue, after all. People were.
Deep down I know I am difficult. I am insecure and high maintenance from an emotional standpoint. I am moody. I can be happy one moment, then depressed the next. I am introspective and negative. I am passionate and loud. You just never know what you are going to get with me.
Deep down, I know that I will never, ever be enough yet at the same time I can be too much. Way too much.
So fear sometimes grips me. I can't bear the thought of losing my kids. It would kill me, drag me under, it would consume me.
But I also am terrified of never being enough. I really never have been for my entire life.
The bad news is that I can really not control either of these things, but the good news is that the cat is out of the bag. I have spoken out loud and in word what my fears are.
Somehow now they seem a little less powerful.
Fear
