Befriending fear: what am I really afraid of?

     

      As I mentioned last week, fear is part of the human experience. It’s an emotion. Emotions aren’t something we can control. When we aren’t willing to own what we’re feeling, the feelings control us. We’ve all met people who are both disconnected from their emotions and controlled by what they feel.

    We may not have choice about feeling afraid, but we can chose how we relate to our own fear. The most secure prison is constructed not of metal bars, but of fear. When we chose not to acknowledge our fear or find out what we’re really afraid of, we let ourselves be taken hostage.

     We make ourselves not be afraid. We can shift our relationship our fears and deflate them a bit by looking at what we’re afraid of. So once we’ve acknowledged that our anxiety or need to make excuses is fear wearing a different face, how do we find out what the fear is really about?

     Fear can be tricky because it comes with sense of urgency and is often tangled up in secondary emotions. When we feel afraid the fear seems immediate. It comes with a sense of urgency, often adrenaline based, that pushes us to do something right now. If what we’re afraid of is the wooly mammoth that’s about to run us over, the urgency helps us get out of the way.

     When it comes to fears not attached to a physical threat, that same urgency can push us into reacting in ways that create a bigger mess we have to clean up later. Breathing into the urgency and letting it move through us or engaging in some physical activity that expends the urgency is step toward responding rather than reacting.

     Primary emotions are the spontaneous feelings that arise in response to a person, thing or experience. These primary emotions are direct result of internal or external stimuli. So when we’re afraid, even if the fear shows up as anxiety or anger, fear is the primary emotion.

     Secondary emotions are what we feel in response to the primary emotions. They often come from our judgments and beliefs around experiencing the primary emotion. If we’re harboring a belief that feeling afraid is a sign of weakness we may choose to feel angry instead. This isn’t a choice we make consciously but looking at what we’re really afraid of means being mindful of the interplay between our primary and secondary emotions.

    Often secondary emotions have little to do with what’s actually happening right now. They are tied to past experiences, wounding, the assumptions we make about the world and who we believe we are. Secondary emotions often last longer than primary ones. (Here’s a great article, Primary and Secondary Emotions, with some tips for differentiating between the two.)

     Uncovering what we’re really afraid of allows us to move into right relation to our fears. Most of us spend a lot of time being afraid of things that don’t actually happen. Ultimately what we’re really afraid of is some aspect of the unknown. Recognizing and owning the specific fear that’s being triggered is the key to deflating the fear.

    So how do we get there? We start by sitting with the fear. That means literally sitting still. It means being with the fear and feeling it rather than analyzing or intellectualizing it.

    Our fears are information. They have a message for us if we’re willing to hear it. The memories and images that arise when we sit with the fear or whatever mask the fear is wearing are good clues to what the fear is really about. The voices that emerge in our internal dialogue in response to the fear are also important clues.

    Sometimes I start by asking myself, “What am I really afraid of?” Often the first answer that pops up is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. When we touch a deep fear we risk paralyzing ourselves. So as a self-protective mechanism to avoid the paralysis we unconsciously bury the deep under layers of other fears that are easier to deal with. This is part of the interplay between primary and secondary emotions.

     We all have different deep fears. One that I’ve worked with for years is my “kicked out of the tribe” thing. I have a fear that I either am something or will do or say something that results in being ostracized or isolated. This usually comes up when I feel nudged to be direct about something that’s uncomfortable. Simultaneously I feel the need to be direct and my mind begins to scramble about why being direct isn’t a good idea. This isn’t a good time. It’s not socially appropriate to be direct right now, etc., etc.

     The first things my mental scrambling throws up could be valid. In that moment being direct might be socially inappropriate and mistimed. Ultimately my reasons for siding with the fear are pretty irrelevant. This isn’t about finding a good justification for surrendering to my fear. It’s about deflating the fear rather than feeding it by making myself smaller.

      So if in the moment my brain is telling me being direct isn’t appropriate but the images that arise are all related to saying something that triggered another person to get angry and walk away, I know what I’m really dealing with is the “kicked out of tribe” thing. That awareness allows me to meet the fear directly. I give myself the opportunity to be brave; to make a powerful choice in full awareness of what I’m risking.

     We can’t simply make our fears go away. They are as much a part of who we are as our eye color. We can choose to disconnect and not feel them. But that choice is really a decision to let our fears hold us hostage and make our lives smaller. Each time we choose to meet our fear and do it anyway we take some of the power away from the fear. Our fears shrink when we allow ourselves to have a new experience. That experience can be one of having our fears not materialize or having the fear come true and realizing we’re still okay.

Befriending fear: recognition and saying “hi”

     Monday I mailed my registration for a 5Rhythms workshop in Santa Fe. I heard about the workshop a month ago. I was immediately both drawn to it and searching for an excuse not to go. Hah! Reading the workshop description set off all kinds of introvert alarms…unknown teacher and almost 90 people attended the last time he taught in New Mexico. Yikes!

     Yep, I scared myself and mailed my registration anyway. After mailing it I realized I’ve been scaring myself regularly since January of last year. And that’s a good thing. Sometimes when I scare myself, I don’t feel afraid.    

        Fear is part of the human experience. It’s our response to a threat or the possibility of a threat. We’ll felt that heart banging, sweaty, fumbling, hands shaking fear that kicks in our flight, fight or freeze instinct. But most of the time fear wears a different face.

      We’ve all heard that thing about how human emotions, at their core, all stem from either fear or love. I’m not sure about that one as it seems too dualistic. I’d say fear, love or a combination of both. Grief is a confluence of love and fear.

     Over the past year when I’ve scared myself I’ve felt anxious, restless, angry, doubtful, small, confused, worried, judgmental and impatient…all different faces of fear. So why didn’t I simply feel afraid? When we’re afraid we also feel open, exposed and vulnerable. If the fear is strong enough we may even feel helpless or powerless.

     None of us want to feel that way so unconsciously we may jump to an alternate manifestation of fear because it’s easier to deal with. Anger is a big one here because it gives us the illusion of being powerful rather than feeling vulnerable. I’ve often wondered if there isn’t some mental mechanism that kicks in when we’re afraid and redirects us to feeling anxious, worried, etc. as a way to avoid getting locked into the physical fight, flight or freeze reaction.

     But that fight, flight or freeze reaction still comes up in response to alternate manifestations of fear; it just looks different. In reaction to a physical threat, the difference between fight, flight and freeze is obvious. When it comes to other threats the categories begin to overlap and blur a bit.

     Fight

           This reaction is all about making the threat go away either by destroying it or pushing it away. So fight can show up as blame, excuses, justifications, rationalizations, attacking who or whatever triggered the fear, getting angry and continuing to feed that anger or mental scrambling.

    Flight

            Flight is about getting away from the threat. It all comes down to some form of physically, mentally or emotionally running away. So flight can show up as walking away, making excuses, justifying, rationalizing, over thinking, looking for a distraction and shutting down.

    Freeze

            When we freeze, we’re immobile. Although this reaction may seem more likely to get us killed than contribute to our surviving the threat, freezing is about hiding in hopes that the threat will pass us by. Like the flight reaction, freeze can be physical, emotional or mental. Freeze shows up as disconnecting from ourselves and our emotions, avoidance, procrastination or simply pretending the scary thing didn’t happen.

     So what’s the point of all this? Why pay attention to the way fear shows up in our lives? It comes down to a question of who we want to be in relation to what scares us. Fear is a contraction. It makes our lives smaller under the guise of keeping us safe. Staying safe means staying in our comfort zones and as the saying goes, nothing grows there.

     This is another example of how what we resist persists. All of our emotions, including fear, are vital sources of information. Feelings are one of the ways we talk to ourselves. When we react by jumping into fight, flight or freeze we’re making a choice akin to running through a dark house, yelling and bumping into the furniture, instead of stopping to turn on the light.  

   Fear is warning that we’re stepping into the risky territory of the unknown. It’s a normal response to pushing the edges of our comfort zones and growing. Each time we surrender to fear by retreating into that fight, flight or freeze response we give the fear more authority over us.  We surrender to making our lives smaller. We confine ourselves to whatever space we can carve out in the prison of what we fear.

    The first step in deconstructing the prison rather than making it stronger is recognizing when we’re afraid and owning the fear.

   

Resistance and leaping

     Last Saturday I participated in my first 5Rhythms workshop. Yep, I’m writing about dancing again. That seems to be the vehicle the Universe is using to show me where I am these days. I registered for the workshop a couple weeks ago. As the date drew closer I noticed some resistance to actually going.

     Sometimes resistance arises loudly. It’s a big “Oh no you’ve got to be kidding!” This resistance was quieter. It felt like a little internal catch, as if I was holding my breath around something.

    Often we view resistance as either a “no” or an enemy that must be defeated. Backing up or steamrolling ahead are options that exist as extremes on a continuum. There’s a whole of middle ground between them.

    Resistance is a sign that I’m pushing the edge of my comfort zone. Resistance is part of process of change. It’s tied to our survival mechanisms. We have that ego thing that’s only comfortable and safe in what it knows. Change involves stepping beyond the known so the ego perceives it as threatening. Once that sense of threat comes up, our lizard brains jump in.

     The lizard brain pretty much operates on threat or no threat. It doesn’t discern between the threat posed by uncovering something in me that I may not like and walking into a dark cave with something growling inside that might decide I’m lunch.

     Resistance is one of the many faces fear wears. Being resistant to change is not a lack of motivation, intention or desire. On the flip side, intention, motivation and desire don’t automatically create change. Authentic change doesn’t happen until I’m willing to work with my fear.

     When resistance comes up for me the first question I ask myself is whether the resistance is internal or external. The answer to that question is often not as obvious as it seems. Many times I’ve made a decision, begun taking action on it and immediately run into an obstacle or two or three.

      I suddenly have four other things I need to put in the time slot I reserved for something else. The money I was going to use for a workshop needs to go to an unexpected expense. Before the workshop I need to get a whole list of other things done and I won’t have time. Blah, blah, blah.

      While all of that may be true, it’s also possible that it’s entirely self-created….even if it appears to be external . When I decide to go do something that I’m feeling resistance to and my car breaks down, if part of me is looking for an excuse to back out I can use my car as a justification not to show up for the scary thing. If my car broke down a week earlier when I wasn’t looking for an excuse not to do the scary thing…okay, that’s just life. Get the car fixed and go on.

     The difference is not in what happened, but how I choose to perceive it. If I’m already looking for an excuse, I can project that onto an external event and use it as a justification for not showing up.

    Here’s the tricky bit, it’s not an either/or. I may end up using the money I was going to spend on a workshop to get my car fixed. That doesn’t mean the workshop was a bad idea. It may be question of timing. Perhaps there’s another workshop next month that’s a better fit for me.

     I can also chose not to do the scary thing right now and still work with whatever resistance came up around it. The most important bit in moving with my resistance is being conscious of what I’m doing. Resistance is a like a toddler. If I don’t engage it, it tries even harder to get my attention.

    It may not get louder tomorrow or next week, but the next time that piece of resistance comes up, it’ll be yelling. The liability of choosing to steamroll over my resistance is that while it gets me past it temporarily, I usually rob myself of the opportunity to find out what the resistance was about. So my resistance stays intact and is free to resurface in another context.

    Even if it seems to be attached to an external event, resistance is something I feel. It’s an internal reaction that comes from inside me. While my emotions are one of the best sources of info I have, feelings aren’t facts. The way I feel is reflection of my inner experience. My feelings don’t necessarily have anything to do with what’s happening in the external world. I could be reacting to a trigger that has to do with an old childhood experience.

    Working through resistance is often a process that happens in layers. I work with the piece I’ve got right now and that makes room for another bit to arise. Sometimes it takes a while for me to figure out what my resistance is about. Like so many other things, I can’t make myself know what’s up right this minute, but I can certainly make the process take longer if I get in my own way.

     Moving with my resistance doesn’t magically make it go away. Consciously being with my resistance does take some of its power away. When I look at it head on, my resistance doesn’t get to slide around in the dark and look bigger than it really is. Sometimes I reach a place where I feel as though I’m teetering on a precipice. I’m caught between the fear and the possibility of a new experience.

    The only thing I know to do with that place is leap before I look. If I stand there and think about, I can keep teetering for years. It comes down a question of what I would do if I wasn’t afraid and am I willing to do it even though I’m scared.

     At other times I need to feel the fear and do it anyway before I have any idea what my resistance was about. I still excavating what my resistance to 5Rhythms is about. Doing the workshop last weekend did show me a piece of it. Some part of me is leery because dancing is so much fun. Hmm….next week’s topic perhaps?