I can't pinpoint the exact day it started - the event or the habitat or the trigger that became the catalyst for this inexplicable inclination to avoid and flee from anything remotely uncomfortable or unfamiliar. This uncanny knack I've perfected, of ducking and dodging, of numbing and wading subconsciously through various phases of life, intended for growth and maturation. I don't know exactly how or when I decided to cheat myself out of facing new opportunities, to change, to evolve, to reform, while fully engaged. When did I lose that courage we're born with - that natural curiosity, that eagerness to embrace life?I don't know. All I know is that it left me, long ago - long before I first recognized insecurity, years before my first kiss, my first love, my first loss. I perfected the art of avoidance well ahead of those formative teenage years. I'm not sure I realized it then, but Fear and I became acquainted very early in life. I don't think anyone is born with an innate sense of trepidation, so it must have slipped in on me somewhere. I wish I could figure it out, go back, and intercept it. So many of my life-altering decisions have been skewed by weighing in against Fear. So many days spent hiding from truth and action, from challenge and change.
I'm petrified of conflict. I can assimilate with anyone, in any situation. I'm like a shock absorber for tension. I take it in, diffuse it, represent it in a non-confrontational way. There was a time when I thought I would make a good lawyer. I can create a defense for anyone. I can see both sides of every situation. I know all the angles, I'm a sucker for vulnerability, and I assume guilt like I'm taking bullets for a cause. The fact is, I would have made a terrible lawyer. All I really want to do is make the conflict go away. I don't want a black or white, a right or wrong. I don't want to take sides. I just want the boat not to rock.Maybe my acute sense of weakness compels me to defend and protect. Maybe managing the dynamics around me helps me maintain some semblance of control. It's the only explanation I have for why I'm drawn to the one thing that pains me the most: Conflict. For me, turning away from tension is like ignoring a drowning man. I can't avert my eyes. I have to dive in. I need to take that bullet. Right or wrong becomes less of a question, and more of an afterthought. It's all about evening the playing field. Digest the situation, accept the fear, the weakness, the vulnerability. Take it in, make it yours, absolve the others of their pain. You own it, now. You're in control.
But am I really? What does rescuing others do for me? I ingest tension, negative energy, pain. I'm like a sponge, soaking up weakness and anxiety. I carry it, like a weight on my shoulders. I feel it, like a sickness in my soul. I've become a chameleon. I have so many faces I don't even know who I am anymore. I'd rather carry your burden than mine, face your fears, compensate for your weakness. I'd rather address your vulnerability than my own, control your life - than live mine. I use you, to avoid myself. I need you, to give me purpose.
And all of that brings me back to why? Why do I struggle with instability around me, but refuse to address my own imbalance? Why can't I let go of the rest of the world, and take hold of my own life? I've finally realized that all of my life I've been gliding along in a semi-conscious state. I've been afraid to be seen, afraid to take chances, afraid to tip the scales. All of my life, I've been weighing in against Fear. All of my life, I've been afraid to be vulnerable. All of my life - afraid of losing control.
And how can you fear losing a thing you've never really had? How can you mistake avoidance and flight for control? Lack of engagement doesn't constitute empowerment. You're not in control - you're in hiding. You're not a hero - you're a coward. And there you go. You've finally recognized yourself for who you really are - or rather, for who you're not. You finally understand the scope of the emptiness within, and it astounds you. You wonder how you never grasped it before. You look back at your life, and the signs are there, plain as day. It was you who chose to avert your eyes.
As a kid, I did anything I could to get out of gym class or Field Day. I feigned injuries, I missed the bell, I took detention. I was insecure and afraid, and it was easier to avoid feeling vulnerable, than to risk being watched and judged. The funny thing is, I can almost guarantee that no one was watching or judging, or even cared either way. The only person watching and judging was me. And I never gave myself a chance to try. For many years I repeated this pattern, and it became so ingrained in me that I still catch myself doing it today. I can only leave my comfort zone without an audience. I can only try new things and take risks when no one is watching.
As I got older, the art of avoidance became more complicated. There was more awkwardness to experience, more unknowns to fear. By then, I'd learned to hide - and if I couldn't hide, I separated. I remember my first real kiss. It was a numbing experience. And it wasn't that I didn't like the boy - I did. But the second he kissed me, I left the scene. My body was there, my mouth was there, but my mind was somewhere else. I went through the motions, and didn't feel a thing. A new pattern. Enter intimacy, cue my exit.
And then I learned other ways to deal with being uncomfortable. I learned that drinking broke down some of the social barriers and communication hurdles, and I never had a first kiss without a drink again. In fact, I became quite the avid kisser - although I hardly remember any of them quite clearly. I'm not really sure what it feels like to want to kiss someone for the first time, without a few drinks. I still think it would take a miracle for that to happen. It's like a protective shield comes down, just as I'm about to open up. It won't let me be vulnerable - it won't let me feel. I just leave the scene. Separated.
One of those alcohol induced first kisses led to a long term relationship, where I practiced avoidance for almost a decade. Everything inside of me told me it was wrong, but I needed direction and motivation and guidance. I needed someone to tell me who to be. I still hadn't found the courage to be vulnerable, to look at myself, to take chances, to stay present in a moment. I became an expert at reinventing myself. I struggled to be everything he wanted, and cried every day, still not knowing what I wanted - but knowing it wasn't what I'd become. I was lost. I brushed hurt under the rug, I averted my eyes, I steadied the boat.
Finally, I found the courage to walk away. I left with nothing, but this person I'd almost become. I think I rebelled. I did everything I couldn't do while I was trapped there. Trapped by my own need to relinquish control. I looked for something else, someone else to tell me who to be. I didn't realize right away that it was ME I was looking for. It was my cue to be a walk-on in my own life. It was my time to take the reigns. Somehow, I still couldn't do it. I'd been practicing avoidance for so long, I just kept going. There were times when I moved in the right direction, and times when my motivation was pure. But the general anxiety remained. The fear stayed with me, and the void kept growing inside.
Over the years I've made many positive changes. I have a good a job, a loving husband, supportive friends. I've grown tremendously, and learned so much about myself. I have regrets, but I'm thankful for the mistakes I've made, because in a sense - they've shown me the way. I recognize the voice inside my head, MY voice, and I listen to it now. I can't help wondering who or what I could have been if I had stopped and really listened long ago. I can't help questioning why I chose to take the long way around, and why I've needed crutches along the way. I don't know if I'm ready to cast those crutches aside, and my first instincts are still avoidance and flight. I prefer living with anesthetic, and I still struggle to control things outside of my control. I'm uncomfortable 90% of the time, and I don't like people watching and judging. But at least now, I look for answers inside. I'm still afraid of what I'll find, but I don't hide from myself anymore. One day soon, I know I'm going to wake up fully present in a moment. I'm going to look at my life head-on, without crutches, no separation - and cue my entrance.- L.
