I have seen fear make a monster of men (and women). I have seen fear reduce a competent adult into a seemingly lost and helpless child. Sometimes, I have seen fear accomplish both at the same time.
I recently had an experience with a close friend of mine that made me re-evaluate all sorts of things- my own fears, my own truth, and my beliefs. In order to protect those involved, I won’t share any identifying characteristics about this person and I will call this friend Jane. Jane and I have been friends for several years. We care deeply about each other. During that time, we have seen each other grow from having one foot in childhood and one foot in “grown-up” land to being fully competent adults. We have watched each other evolve and have watched each other go through the good, the bad and the ugly. I am pretty loyal to those I care about and would go to the ends of the earth for Jane if needed because thats what you do for the people you love.
For the past several months, Jane has been in a dark place born of anger and pain, some of it due to things that happened years and years ago. Anger and pain which has little if anything to do with me. Without going into too many details, Jane wasn’t there for me at a time when I asked her to be, and she wasn’t forthcoming about the fact that she wasn’t going to be there. I felt let down in a sense because I have always been there for Jane, regardless of whether or not it was convenient. When I expressed my feelings about this, I became the focal point for her anger and pain and was told many things that seemed to question my character, loyalty, sincerity, and my heart. As a result, I was suddenly aware of a distance between fear and love that seemed cavernous.
For someone who has always felt things deeply and prides herself on being a good friend and being genuine with her heart, those things cut me to the core. My mind could rationalize and tell me not to take it personally, that these were the actions and words of a wounded person mired in their own darkness, anger and hurt and feeling helpless as to how to find a way out. My mind could tell me that when we are not ourselves and not in a good place it is not uncommon for us to hurt those we love the most. Sometimes we even -perhaps not consciously- use those closest to us as the focal point of all that we are feeling because on some level (again, often not consciously) we know that person loves us and has stood by us so we feel safe doing so. My mind knew all of that, but my heart hadn’t quite caught on yet.
My own fears kicked in, to the point where I fell on my ass so to speak and I began to doubt myself and my own truth. I began to even wonder if I was a good person. I was also struck by how such opposite emotions as deep fear and deep love can play out on a stage such as this, both pushing and pulling and sometimes creating a distance between both sides that can feel unbearable.
It’s weird, but I have a tendency to delve deeper in to my wounds when sometimes I should let them heal a bit first. In some ways, it’s the equivalent of poking and prodding a toothache even though doing so hurts. I guess in a sense I am always looking for the seed of truth, the lesson that this experience offers so that I can at least feel there was a purpose to the pain. Amidst all of the anger and pain fueled words said to me, there were two statements that stopped me in my tracks for they did ring true, though likely not in the way that Jane intended. I was told that I was the cause of my own pain and that we come into each other’s lives to teach things and I haven’t learned what I was supposed to learn from her yet.
After I had some time to process a bit, I learned some things about myself that I was less than proud of.
I realized that I hadn’t seen the signs that were so obviously there, indicating that Jane was not in a position to be able to do what I expected of her. Granted, my expectations were basic and nothing that I haven’t done for her in return, but I judged her ability to do what I was asking as though she and I were in the same place emotionally. I neglected to consider that sometimes pain creates opaque walls for people and they feel like they can’t move or even see beyond these walls. Sometimes, they don’t even realize that the walls exist. When you are drowning in your own pain, it can feel near impossible to help or be there for someone else. All of your energy is focused on surviving, on keeping your head above water and and making it to dry land.
I saw a quote earlier this week that talked about a girl who overwatered the plants because she didn’t know when to stop giving. Love is both my strength and my weakness because I don’t know how to do it half assed. When I love someone, I’m all in. Unfortunately, sometimes I don’t realize that I am overwatering the plants in my desire to be there for those I love (because often the other person is not candid with me, likely due to not wanting to hurt my feelings.) Yet in this case, by doing this, I may have made the other person feel obligated or as if they owe something. I end up feeling resentful at times that boundaries have been crossed when I clearly had the power to stand firm with those boundaries. In actuality, we both might be better off if I simply let the other know that I have the water ( so to speak) if they need it and leave it up to them to make the choice by asking for what they need. In addition, while it’s true that when I love others I love without limits, that’s not always true of the way I love myself.
I have difficulty with the concept that I am the sole cause of my own pain, as that seems to imply that the others in these situations don’t have to be accountable for their actions/contributions. But I do agree that in some ways in this case I set myself up for pain. Giving to the point of overdoing it and having expectations (often without realizing it), can set me up for heartbreak.
My friend is accountable for not being forthcoming with me and for choosing to lash out at me by saying some pretty hurtful things, but for all of the reasons described above I am accountable for my pain as well because only I have the choice in how I will react to others’ actions and whether or not I question or negate my truth based on what has occurred.
There is one final, beautiful lesson that I learned from this painful experience. My natural inclination when I have been emotionally hurt in the past has been to retreat into myself and build walls to numb the pain and try to avoid future hurt. I feel the urge to protect myself at all costs but not letting people in, not letting them get as close as I did with the person whom I felt contributed to my pain. I was pondering this one evening and experiencing the push and pull between fear and love, not yet knowing which would claim victory. Call it my guide, my inner voice, whatever you will, but I suddenly heard these words:
The answer is not to retreat. The answer is not to love less. No, my dear. The only cure for this situation is to LOVE. Love harder, love more deeply, and love freely. Most importantly, love yourself harder, deeper, and without limits.
Odd advice, right? Yet I realized that if I was better at loving myself -flaws and all-this situation would likely have been avoided because I would have understood and enforced my boundaries earlier on. I would have stood in my power in a loving way. I would have honored my truth, grounded in it like a tree so that whatever comes my way may move me from time to time but will not break me and will not change what and who I am-at least not unless I feel the need to change in order to better align with my truth and with the person I want to be. I believe that the point of this life is to expand-not to contract-our soul, who we are, and what we offer the world.
There was one thing in this entire situation that I was proud of. Despite the fact that there were so many things I could have and was tempted to say that would hurl pain right back at my friend, I chose differently. I chose to express my opinions in a polite way but to end the conversation with affirmation that while I do not agree with her perspectives, I am sorry that she is in pain and I will continue to love her, regardless of whether or not we choose to be in each other’s lives. In this small way, I was able to reverse the tides of my own fears and instead respond in a loving way.
Bridging the gap between fear and love, isn’t an easy thing and sometimes fear wins the battle. The scientific principle known as the Hermetic Axiom contains the assertion that moving from one end of the spectrum all the way to the other end doesn’t usually happen in one giant leap. Rather, it happens in degrees. One typically doesn’t move from being sad to being happy in a short period of time with few phases in between. There is no tangible line that marks the point in time when we switched from sadness to joy. Instead, as time goes on, one becomes a little less sad and a little less sad until one day they realize they are more happy than sad. In this way, too, I feel hopeful knowing that I don’t have to eliminate the space between fear and love all in one shot. I can do something each day to move closer and closer to a sustained practice of loving harder, loving deeply, loving free. In those moments where I fail in this endeavor, I can be confident in picking myself up and moving forward because I know I have moved back by degrees rather than having to start all over again.
Yes, I have seen fear make a monster of men. I have seen it reduce capable adults into helpless children.
But, oh, I have seen love transform monsters into heroes and helpless children into wise beings. I have seen instances where love has brought people to life, and changed the world for the better. Fear defeats us, driving us further into our own personal hell. Love frees us from the shackles that fear would have us wear. Love makes us better people and it brings us light, transforming the dull, grey limited world that fear provides into the joyful, vivid color of a world that is often beyond anything we would have previously imagined to be possible.