Facing the Fear Within Me; My Date to WW3

"There's danger up ahead." My heart tells me. It's been tossed like a rubber ball off walls, it's natural to be cautious.

"What makes you say this with such certainty?" My ever-pragmatic brain asks. It has calculated for every probable issue. The heart is a metaphorical twat swatter.

"It's dark ahead, brain. Surely, I don't need to tell you what happens in the dark?" My heart is desperate now, beating against its bone cage like escape is possible.

My mind only answers in the tired way one can when anxiety has taken root in the water pipes though. "And I don't need to tell you that it also happens in the light."

I've spent so much time avoiding the fear uncertainty brings, that I've given myself something real to fear. The steady passage of time.
I disappeared from the world for several weeks recently. I'd found myself in the thick of depression; difficult life circumstances and the weight of the choices I've made sank my serotonin supply. I began to push situations I'd long thought I'd gotten over through the ole processor with fresh eyes. I gazed at my shadow, and it gazed back.

I've been a people pleaser my entire life. This tendency slowly formed the skeleton of my personality. I was two girls, one who is adventurous and outspoken, and one who constantly believes that something terrible will happen if I make even the most minor of mistakes.

The first girl is my true self, the voice in my head when my mind is still.

There was always a pull to be the other girl, however. My father told me that security in life lived with a man who had a good job. He prodded me to be less intense, more agreeable, noted the merits of the womanly virtues in my presence.

He always encouraged my creativity too though. He remarked that maybe my strong-willed nature was the cost of my ability to create. He laughed at my emotionally volatile outbursts in my teenage years, not questioning what would make a kid so damn angry. I felt unheard, so I didn't speak up.

There were many outside factors that my father was unaware of giving me absolutely awful messages. Unknowingly, he was playing in to them. The woes of raising a kid, eh? I don't fault him for it. I think everyone fucks their kids up somehow, no matter how hard we try not to.

What was ingrained in me was a people pleasing nature that was laden with anxiety. I felt that I was too much, I was told I was. Each interaction that harmed me became proof of some personal inadequacy, and I frantically tried to correct for it. My identity was self-doubt.

When we are told that our reactions are wrong constantly, the only thing we can do is learn to not react genuinely. My 30's have largely been about unlearning that terrible life lesson so far.

I once set the perception others carried of me over my own contentment. I pushed myself to exhaustion, I set aside my own desires. It took a lot for me to overcome that, and of course it is an ongoing practice. I've learned that it is only me who must live my life, to reap what is sewn in action.

I've found peace in seeking what I truly need, even if it does not make sense to others. I've spent too much of my life basing decisions on the paths that are well-worn, the ones others encourage you to walk... As I trekked, I learned how utterly not for me that really is.

These lessons haven't come easily, and I'm not the only one who has been hurt in the process. Although the purpose of this blog is to talk about my ongoing shadow work... it would be remiss of me not to mention how my journey for personal growth has impacted others. Unfortunately, people pleasing is only a camouflaged disservice in the end.

When we deny our true nature, it will often come out swinging when enough pressure builds. You can fail just as easily doing something your heart isn't in, as you can at attempting what you truly crave. I know now that I am wild.

Or perhaps I should say that life aggressively told me that years ago. Maybe I could talk about how my discomfort in society nearly drove me mad half a decade ago, or how I stuffed those feelings into a far corner of my brain.

I gaslit myself, like I was taught to. I lashed the vibrant parts of myself with the notion that my dreams were impossible. Feats I now know folks do every day. I told myself there was safety in things that ended up gutting me. I lied my ass off, and I believed me.

Recently, I sold or donated most of my belongings. I made a co-parenting plan so that I could be not just a mother, but a happy mother. I stuffed one suitcase full of the things I feel are essential, and I flew across the world. Social media says my general location is the starting point of WW3, this is parroted by everyone I speak to. I tend to feel this it is not the situation.

Yes, I am firmly planted between Iran and Israel right now in lovely Amman Jordan. With rising tensions in the area, it is fully probable that I will experience some things that are frightening, potentially even deadly. Should this stop me from following my heart though?

I've taken the chance of dying each time I've gotten onto the highway in substance laden Cleveland Ohio. You have a 1-in-5000 chance of dying in a car crash each time the wheels start spinning. Yet, everyone agrees that driving is fine, so I've done it as much as the next person. When did I begin valuing the opinions of the general zombified population over my own instincts?

I will die on the day I am meant to, until then I will live my life to the fullest. I'll explore, force myself to ignore anxiety and speculation. I'll prioritize passion and love and inspiration. That is what brought me here, after all. I fell in love with a man that I met on this very blogging platform roughly two years ago, and now I lay my head next to his at night.



That's another thing everyone told me not to do. According to the rules that people have decided govern them, online relationships rarely go well. Chances are, you'll go off to meet them and find that the person in front of you is nothing like the one on your phone screen.

My gut knew otherwise, and it was correct. I walked out of the airport to see the man I love, and everything was exactly as it always has been, just a whole lot cooler. Real recognizes real, and @yaziris is the most genuine person I've ever met. We drove off from the airport and settled into being together as if we'd gone home together 1000 times, but that is a story for another time.

Between statistics, instinct, and the batshit way people drive here, I truly feel that I was more likely to die during the ride than living in this city. I'm going to keep trusting myself, as joy grows in all of the cracks left from the times before. The fear within me no longer governs me.

^{All photos are my own. Divider made for me by Yaziris.}