By T. Nikic
It is not something you’re born with, but something you learn. And you do not learn it because you need to learn it or because you learn it from a happy situation. Often times, fear is laced within a scar that is hidden. People hide their scars when they think it makes them less attractive or less beautiful. It’s the same thing with fear. People internalize their fears and don’t talk about them because they think it makes them less attractive or less beautiful.
Some people are aware of their fears and have made a lifelong commitment to facing them. Others have allowed their fears to guide them in life. Never risking too much, playing it ‘safe’. Only going so far within relationships and with people whom they meet. But those who have made a commitment to facing their fears often don’t realize that they have a fear until someone, whom they do not know very well, triggers it.
Triggers of fear can be very random, overwhelming and surprising. How one addresses and deals with these triggers is a choice. But because people who have made a commitment to face their fears in life have often internalized their battle, they only really know how to go within themselves and try to deal with it internally. Alone. It’s not that they do not want to connect with others, but they feel shame and remorse that that fear exists, and feel that they will no longer be attractive to another if they see it.
The thing of it is, fear can sometimes be like a gust of wind, bringing with it everything great and everything not so great that was surrounding you and the person who triggered the fear. It could be the most beautiful connection, your ideal in fact, and you want to enter that space with the other person, but fear is just blowing this strong current at you, creating a small tornado-like storm around your being. You have no clue on how to stop it or calm it down enough to maintain the connection with the other person.
In many ways, you feel crippled. Stunned. You think to yourself, “I just met the most incredible person. Someone I’ve been hoping to meet. And here they are, ready and willing to explore this connection with me, but I’m so scared.” My fear questions everything, “Is this real? Are they real? You’ve not been here before; you think you can actually do this? They will see you’re scarred and then they will walk away, don’t you forget that.”
You do not want to push people away, but because you allow your fear to take you into your Self, you aren’t able to nurture the connection you discovered with the other person. And they do not know you well enough to know if you’re still there and interested, or if you’re pulling away. They do not have a good reason to stand the fear storm with you, because you haven’t given them enough to go on.
As you’re trying to sort through your fear, your surroundings become foggy and you can no longer maintain eye contact with them. You want to ask them to be patient with you, to wait for you, and maybe even hold your hand, but you think that that’s way too much to ask from someone you don’t know very well. You feel them slowly pulling away. Shutting down. Shutting you out. You hate seeing the change in the energy between the two of you, but the fear has gotten really strong at this point. It has exhausted you and you’re falling. A thick fog has formed around you and you have no way of seeing past it. There is nothing for you to do except to try to minimize the pain of the fall by curling up into yourself, completely looking away from the person you wanted to let in.
After some time, you wake up and realize that you’ve managed to survive and exhaust your fear. Sure, the fear storm has scattered all the shame and remorse on the ground surrounding you, but you do not reach for them. The scar your fear was interlaced with is completely exposed, but that doesn’t make you feel less beautiful anymore. You realize that the fog has cleared. It’s not sunny but it’s calm. You look around, trying to locate the footprints of the person you wanted to let in, but the fear storm was so strong that it has erased them. You start to panic and begin thinking of how to get ahold of them, how to reach them. You have no signal on your phone. There is an old payphone but the cord has been cut. You try walking down this path and that path, but they’re all dead ends.
You make your way back to the space you first met them, the road of brave souls, and you sit there, alone, with the hope that they might come back for you and give you another chance. You’re there for only a short while, because you realize that it’s not about going back, but moving forward. If you cross paths again, you’ll have to show your scars and tell them those stories. Otherwise that fear you broke free of, will win. And fear will always win…. if you let it.
1: forbearance from speech or noise : muteness —often used interjectionally
2: absence of sound or noise : stillness in the silence of the night
3: absence of mention: a : oblivion, obscurity b : secrecy weapons research was conducted in silence
Sometimes it’s the silence between the notes
Which makes the song.
The pause, which allows the note before
And the note after it
To be heard and understood.
We write songs in our daily lives
Often without knowing it.
We pause before replying,
We walk away,
It’s what determines the song’s melody.
If I had to tell you
What my last song was about
I’d say it was about fears
And that it’s important we face them.
It’s about wounds and scars,
Covered up and bound with
Band-Aids and bandages
Which, at some point,
Need to be ripped off.
It’s about being present,
In the moment,
Without definition, expectation or direction,
Where one exists as they are.
It’s about staying in the moment
And trusting that that space will evolve,
Grant life, beauty.
It’s about meeting another’s gaze,
Without looking away,
Not being scared of that sacred space.
It’s about SOULfood
Where freedom exists
And there are no limits
Placed on humanity
When one song ends,
The silence before the first note of the next
Will surely be of influence.
And when the new song starts
Because it just might be the song
Which becomes the oyster shell
For your heart.
Reposting because I mean it.
I shall address you first because I want you to know just how grateful I am, to you, for being who you are. Your courage, your fearlessness, your drive, your spirit, your heart – it touches me so deeply that it brings tears to my eyes. I see you struggling to live out the truth in your heart and fight against the labels and expectations that society has unjustly placed on you, and you know what? I SUPPORT YOU! Please don’t ever stop listening to truths your heart holds. Follow and nurture those dreams so that we all may share in the joy of being true Kings and Queens together. I BELIEVE IN YOU! You have the intelligence, the love, the heart, the creativity, the courage, the spirit, to bring to life ALL of your dreams. It’s never too late to start on one you may have…
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I am not sure you are my dearest of them all, but I guess once upon a time, you were. I write you this from the heart of that space, reflected upon in the space and time I exist in now. It’s illuminated by wisdom and forgiveness, and oh so much growth. And peace. Beautiful peace. I do not know this for sure, but I think you may still be in search of it, in your own way.
I realize I’ve started this letter rather abrupt…
I hope that you are well. I hope that you are happy.
F*ck it, it doesn’t matter anymore, wishing you well. You’re going to portray what you think I want to see, not the truth, although I somehow always seemed to have been able to piece together your reality. The reality that you painted in numb strokes that only a fool would see emotionless. Your choice of colours was often a reflection of what you thought was how I’d want to see you. It seemed you’d forget that each hue had its base colour; one I picked out through the haze you layered it in. Darling, your attempts to escape into a world you wanted me to enter, was too small for us both and too empty for me to live in. The deeper you went into it, the more sure I was of my exit from you. I felt as if you had wrapped beautiful silk thread around me, which seemed warm and cozy at first, but then started to suffocate me. It took every ounce of strength I had in my mind, body, and spirit, to break through it and escape. You had wrapped me in your strokes and colours so tightly that I was not sure if any of it was real. All I could do was run as far and as fast away from you as possible until I was sure I was safe to rest and recover. It took a while it seems to regain my strength, and when I did I just kept moving forward without you. I scrubbed away any traces of your colours on my being and burned them the same way one burns old photos – there is no thought or emotion involved in knowing that you’re erasing history, you just do it and allow the wind to spread the ashes wherever it feels like. The thing of it is, sometimes, even if you burn the photos, some stay engrained in your memory, whether you want to remember or not….
Truth be told, I type this teary eyed. In my memory is a photograph of a breezy, starry summer night. We are sitting across from each other, eating popcorn and sharing stories. Our night is filled with laughter and tears, both sad and happy. The magic of the evening is interrupted only by the wind…or maybe the wind is what brought it? I recall the stories from that night, but there is where I allow them to rest. The wind seemed to have been in sync with our words, bringing ghosts from our past to the appropriate moments in our conversation. They added to the beauty and tragedy of it all. I recall the twinkle of the North Star because it was there that night, in your eyes, along with the truths I realized for the first time. These truths have stood the test of time.
The first is that we loved each other, truly, madly, deeply, with every unearthed bits of our souls. The warmth of that night encapsulates me.
The second is that I knew then that our love was only going to manifest a tragedy more profound than Shakespeare could have written, if we ever tried. No emotion evoked.
The third is one that I am able to see today and not before – it was real. Peace.
I was not even aware that I was a passion addict until a few months ago. I was talking to someone in their 40s who had just come out of a very long relationship and was excited about their newfound excitement and passion of the relationship they was entering with someone else. They had mentioned how that was the one thing that all relationships tend to lose at some point and that they were glad that they are experiencing it again, but as an outsider, it seemed that things were moving rather quickly with this new person. However, I started thinking about all of my dating experiences from ages ago and realized that my main drive for getting into anything with anyone in the past has also really been one main thing – passion.
I can honestly say that, for a long while, chemistry, physical attraction, and excitement were the only things deciding if I was going to date someone. And when I say date, I use that term loosely. It was more like spending time with a guy (sharing a dinner, going dancing, etc) for a few weeks and then going “Next!”, leaving in search of someone else because I wanted sparks in my interactions with those of the opposite sex I was interested in. I mean it wasn’t that I was always dating someone and it’s not that I experienced that exciting chemistry with every guy I met (nor did I date everyone I met), but that’s what I was searching for.
Living like that – in constant search of experiencing excitement, passion and chemistry with another human being – it got me into some unhappy situations. And the best part? I hadn’t a clue as to how this could happen to me, again and again. Looking back on it now, I see so much immaturity in that young woman, but I can also see so much growth from all of that. It’s not that every experience was bad, it’s that none of them lasted. And how could they? None of those dating ‘relationships’ were based on substance or friendship or some sort of foundation one could potentially build an actual relationship on. They were all just based on…passion.
I’m not going to sit behind my computer and pretend as if passion isn’t important or that we don’t need to experience it. That would be the farthest thing from the truth. But what I’ve learned is that if you want to get into an actual relationship, you have to base it on something concrete with someone who has the same intentions and values. Passion just doesn’t seem to be that solid of a ‘thing’ to base a relationship on.
Social media has been interesting in people’s sharing of their own opinions on dating, the opposite sex, and relationships. From what I’ve seen (and unfollowed on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter), there are a lot of cynics out there who complain about ‘the selection’ of men or women ‘available’ to them. I have yet to see, however, any of these cynics take some responsibility for their own actions, intentions, and reflect on why they keep having the same experiences over and over again. I’m not saying I have it all figured out or that these people aren’t justified in having these opinions, however if the common denominator in all of these experiences is YOU, then it’s likely you have some work to do.
I feel a conscious shift amongst my peers which includes being more mindful on what we say, do and who we spend time with. I think much of that has to do with obtaining a more honest awareness of Self but I also think we’re becoming more mindful with our intentions. And that makes me hopeful – maybe our relationship experiences will become happier and much more fulfilling.
Many of us had been sold “the fairytale” of what a relationship should look like, by our society, movies, media, TV, however many of us are also coming out of it with a simple realization:
We create the experiences in our lives. That includes love, relationships, friendships, and yes, even passion.