If you are part of a spiritual community, whether it's a church or a twelve-step group, you've probably had some asshole tell you that fear is the opposite of faith. Maybe it's true. I don't fucking know. But the fact is, we are not angels, or gods, or even dogs who can rest assured that our food bowl will always be filled no matter what. We are human, and being afraid is not abnormal. It is built into our DNA, after (hello, fight/flight reflex). Fear is, in fact, a God-given resource that helps keep us safe.
However.
Lately I've found myself absolutely paralyzed with fear. Most of it is surrounding the work I've been doing, and my fears that I am not going to make it as a freelance writer, and that in fact my writing sucks and what on earth was I thinking quiting my job? I am such a LOSER.
This is NOT normal.
My head is a sick and crazy place to live. Most the work I do to maintain my spiritual well-being is designed to keep me out of my head, to instead direct my energies outward toward helping other people and trying to be the best person I can be and letting go of everything else. But every now and then I can't stop myself. I descend into insanity, and every phone call is bad news, and every email rife with double meanings (none of which is good).
It's a terrible way to live.
Luckily, I have people in my life that know what to do to force me to snap out of it. I called my primary spiritual adviser today and she suggested I work on my issues with faith, and that I take some time to make a gratitude list. What's a gratitude list? Well, it's a third grade level trick designed to put me in a better mood. When my head is full of craziness, a gratitude list helps me put things in perspective, and remind me of the good things in my life (note: it doesn't always work. I would not suggest trying to create a gratitude list when you are, say, in the hospital after losing your twin boys. However, for more run-of-the-mill fear, it's awesome).
So after I hung up the phone, I took some time to yell at God for a moment, and then I listed those things I'm grateful for. Like the fact that Charlie is 100% behind me being home, and working as a freelancer, even though it means we no longer have a regular paycheck to rely on and now stalk the mailman on a regular basis in hopes that a check will come so we can pay bills/buy groceries/buy me some new fucking pants. Or the fact that Tori is not only here, and healthy, but pretty much the cutest baby that ever walked the earth (shut up, she is). And the fact that I have an amazing best friend who totally listens to me when I'm crazy and never laughs at me. Or the fact that I have another good friend that listens to me and DOES laugh at me and helps me remember that I am crazy.
While I was in the midst of thinking about all these things, I was washed with a wave of gratitude for all of you. My professional work now is writing, and I have felt a little shaky in my abilities of late. But then I remembered you guys, you amazing people that come here every single day and read whatever drivel my brain produces, and then say nice things to me about it. Holy shit, I am the luckiest woman in the world! Why on earth am I afraid?
Everything will be fine. I am a good writer, and I will find a way to make this work. Thank you for reminding me.
Not long after I had that moment of realization, I tuned into my local NPR station only to hear Dan and Dave Simpson, two local poets (they live in my town, even) that happen to be blind, being interviewed. Dan read this amazing poem (ah, I wish I could find a copy online for you all) about faith and being blind. The poem said something about being at the book store and buying books with blank pages (pages written in braille, of course, can look blank from a distance) and "paying with a bill the grocery store clerk said was a twenty."
Man. When God wants to tell me something, s/he drops an anvil on my head. Talk about faith! Talk about gratitude! Talk about perspective!
Shit.
Right now (I just almost typed "write now", how Freudian of me), I am mid-leap. I am flying through the air, hoping that jumping was the right decision, praying that instead of falling to the ground in a broken heap I will instead either land safely or a net will magically appear. Is there anything more terrifying?
The truth is, even mid-leap, my life is pretty fucking wonderful. And I couldn't possibly be more grateful to be reminded of that fact. Thank you for being part of that.
So, tell me; what are you afraid of? And what are you grateful for?
