On fear and protection

Fear has been with us from the moment of our birth. What an alarming experience it must be for the newborn to be hurtled from the snug safety of the womb into a wildly unfamiliar outside world. As helplessly dependent infants, we felt frightened whenever danger appeared imminent, or protection was perceived as uncertain.

Even when our adult lives seem safer, we remain vulnerable to apprehension about experiences we have not yet had to deal with. "What if something terrible were to happen?"

No one is ever totally safe from harm. No matter how cautiously we live our lives, occasionally we are injured. Sometimes we suffer sickness, and someday we are certain to lose someone or something we value dearly. Inevitable, we all get sick, grow old, and die.

Even so, we need not always play it safe. We don't have to live constricted lives, anxiously clinging to familiar patterns that seem secure. Instead, it is possible to learn to face fears, indulge curiousity about the unknown, and to improvise a colorful and adventuresome lifestyle, all without putting ourselves needlessly and recklessly at risk.

The willingness to risk can bring about otherwise unattainable rewards. Unless we are willing to move beyond feeling afraid of new experiences, and always depending on the safety provided by others, we can only experience people as they relate to our own sense of security --- either they threaten it, or protect it. Then we end up limiting our involvement with them to avoiding the danger of their disapproval, or seeking the seemingly secure safety of their approval.

The restrictions imposed by fear may not be confined to simply acting well-behaved, avoiding extraordinary events, and missing out on opportunities to enjoy ourselves. Worse yet, fearing that even our unexpressed thoughts may somehow expose us to danger, we may not even allow ourselves the luxury of boldly unconventional inner lives. We end up not only publicly nicer than an authentic person actually is, but too good to be true even in the privacy of our own imaginations.

But safeguards as stringent as these provide security attained at an exorbitant emotional cost. If our caution demands that we continually deceive those whose care we count on, then who will we be to them, and what will they be for us?

Enjoyment of an adventuresome adult life requires that we learn to discriminate for ourselves between false alarms and the real alarms that are signals of jeopardy. Facing fears on our own is risky, but we have to take care of ourselves no matter how afraid we feel. If we are willing to risk discerning the difference for ourselves, instead of continually relying on the protection of others, we increase our emotional options and expand our range of personal freedom.