Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Don't run from the animals, don't show your fear

My father taught me to never run from the cows.
My parents had a farm when I was growing up, and my second brother and I sometimes followed my father around while he worked.
One of the things we loved to do was to ride the hay wagon as he pulled it with his Farmall tractor from the stable down a dirt road towards the tobacco barn, where he had dug a silo for silage to feed his Black Angus cows.
This dirt road ran through the pasture where the cows fed, and when we stopped at the silo, some of the cows would gather around as my father used a pitchfork to throw out the feed from the silo and the hay from the wagon.
I was a timid child, and I was afraid of the cows.
My father’s oft-repeated advice was something like, “Don’t run from the cows, even if you get scared. Just walk away.”
And I didn’t run. I could stand amongst the cows even if I was uncomfortable or afraid. I could remain standing or move around slowly.
Apparently, I carried the lesson about the cows further than my father could have expected.
When I was in first or second grade, I waited for the bus alone one morning.
It had rained during the night, and there were puddles in the sandy soil where I waited. Earthworms moved around, leaving tracks in their wake.
I crouched down and reached out my finger towards one of the earthworms. I don’t remember now why I wanted to touch an earthworm.
As my finger got closer, I looked more closely at the earthworm and saw that it wasn’t solid brown like the others. It was a lighter brown, with dark brown markings on its back.
It was a baby snake. A copperhead.
I was terrified of snakes. Fear shot through me. But I didn’t run.
I remember thinking, if I run, it might chase me.
So I slowly straightened, turned around, and walked up the driveway towards the house.
I felt the eyes of the snake on my back. I was afraid it would come after me. All I could do, though, was to keep walking until I reached my mother, who had come outside from the window inside where she was watching me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“There’s a snake down there,” I said.
My mother did not have a happy look on her face. She was probably even more terrified than I was.
But she walked back down the driveway and picked up a big rock. She took the rock and killed the snake.
Let me say that I’m not sure how I feel now about her killing the copperhead. At the time, though, it seemed like the only thing to do, to rid our driveway of this poisonous snake.
Looking back, I see a pattern I developed of trying to act unafraid, not just of animals, but of anything.
I developed ways to act like everything was fine and nothing was bothering me, even when I was afraid, or anxious, consumed by obsessions and compulsions, or depressed.
In the larger scheme of things, that’s OK. That’s a part of being competent, as I wrote about in yesterday’s post. Sometimes I need to put my head down and do what needs to be done. Sometimes it’s not a good idea to appear vulnerable.
But if no one ever knows I’m afraid or hurting in some way, then how can I get the support that I sometimes need?
When I am afraid, I can say it out loud to only my husband. I can pray it. And I can write it.
Then I’m not pretending anymore. And then I can receive the understanding that I need. We all can.

What are your thoughts about this? Do you think we learn as children to hide our fear? When is it OK to show our fear?

18 comments:

  1. I was systematically taught to be afraid. I was not permitted to go on field trips for school because the bus might crash. If I had a stomach ache, it must be appendicitis. If I had a toothache, it was an abscess. And I shouldn't get stung by bees, because I might be allergic and go into anaphylactic shock and die before anyone could help me. Further, that sniffle I had was probably not a cold, but a serious bacterial infection for which we needed antibiotics immediately so I would not end up in the hospital fighting for my life. I suppose it is really no big stretch that I developed OCD and overvalue every little concern.

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    1. I can see how the anxiety-producing attitudes around you could teach you that fear was the norm. It's a hard habit to break, I know.

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  2. I think we have to all find that "happy medium." I, like "I Am Not My OCD," was brought up in an anxiety-ridden household. I was supposed to be afraid of everything. Ideally, I think we need to be able to handle fear (competence, as you say), but also not hide it. We need to be able to express ourselves and whatever we are feeling... for our own good mental health. Easier said than done, but something I strive for.

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    1. Janet, That does sound like the best we can do, is to find that "happy medium." It is hard to express something like fear and anxiety because I think some people judge us harshly when we do. But we can strive for being honest about our feelings.

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  3. I think it's OK to show our fear to others (besides close family) in limited doses. I'm not sure it's socially acceptable to constantly show our fear. People would definitely get frustrated with me if I showed my fear every single time I felt it, plus they would probably think I'm weird. That's partially why I've let several of my friends know about my blog. They are learning about the incredible depth of fear, but in a way that is more socially palatable. They can read it and walk away from it without having to respond. But . . . now they understand.

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    1. Sunny, You're right--no one wants to hear about all my fears, every single one. I think that's a good idea to share your blog with some friends.

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  4. Glad you were okay. I used to babysit for a woman that got bit by a copperhead, had a reaction to the antivenom, and was permanently paralyzed from the waist down as a result. So fears over copperheads are justified in my opinion. I've encountered them running several times, but don't usually realize it until I'm in the air midpace above them! Eek!

    Do you have power there? We STILL don't.

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    1. I've seen them out when jogging, too, and kept on running!

      We have power at our house but there are still houses in our area with no power, especially in Lynchburg. It's really been awful. I hope you get yours back on soon!!!

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  5. As a child I was afraid of a lot of things, small simple things like the gym class at school, but also "big" things, like war, earthquakes and bombs etc. But no one took them seriously. My mom used to just tell me to snap out of it, "all these things were simply not going to happen in Holland". For a long time this made me reluctant to talk about them at all, not even in therapy. And act to the world as if nothing was wrong. I even practised on what expression I had to have on my face to not show my fear. The result was/is that quite a few people find me a very arrogant woman. Feels like you can never win because a scaredy cat is also not accepted. Hard to find the balance!

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    1. Klaaske, I'm sorry that you felt like you had to hide your fear, too. Sometimes I tend to look cool and not very friendly, when really, I'm anxious. It's so much healthier when we can express our true feelings.

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  6. I too hide a lot and am learning that it is okay to voice my fears.

    What a brave little girl you were to merely walk away from a copperhead! I probably would have done something stupid like scream and run LOL.

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    1. Oh, believe me, Elizabeth, that is what I would do now! When I was little, I was under the impression that the copperhead would chase me if I ran. That's the only reason I walked away.

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  7. I think that we do learn how to surpress these feelings as we grow older. I have a hard time epressing my fears. But, if we have lived with OCD, we are used to disgusing behavoirs, such as fear, angst, ect. However, you were very composed! I may have reacted differently if I had come accross a snake!

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    1. I was composed only on the outside--inside, I was very afraid. I think as we grow older, we learn to hide more, too.

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  8. For me there was some kind of brain-breach between real and hypothetical. In other words, if I thought something COULD happen, then I believed it WOULD happen. Not like a magical thinking kind of thing or willing it to happen but rather, if, say, I feared a tree COULD fall on the house, then I believed it WOULD fall on the house. It was just a matter of time and I needed to be ready when it happened by paying attention (obsessing) over the situation. Does this make sense? I remember a time when I went camping with my husband. We were in a remote area and I was obsessing on our vulnerability, completely convinced that because a psychopath COULD attack us, a psychopath WOULD attack, at any moment. I had to be ready, so I'd have myself all worked up by playing out the rehearsal scenarios in my mind over and over.

    Fortunately it was a brain chemical imbalance. Now that I've got meds, the balance is in place and I don't obsess like this any longer.

    Excellent writing, Tina. Your father taught you a little TOO well, didn't he? :) It's interesting how our little minds interpret the things we're taught.

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    1. Thank you, Grace. I totally get what you mean because I thought like that a lot too--if something bad could happen, then it would happen. But I tried "magical" methods to keep bad things from happening, like chanting prayers, using "good" numbers, etc.

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  9. I am glad you have someone..your husband..to tell when you are afraid now. We all need that person. I think there are times when, as in the case of the cows, we need to be strong and not show our fear because outward expression of our feelings could be dangerous. But in general and in life, I have such admiration for people who can openly express feelings because I bottle so much up and think much of my anxiety is due to repression. I have to feel very safe to be open and I too have my husband, my adult children and a few friends now that I can be real with but I am still very wary.

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    1. Thanks, Krystal. I do feel lucky to have a husband that I can be honest with. I think I have repressed a lot of my feelings, too, because of the repercussions I experienced when I was young for expressing my feelings.

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