For my first two years of college, I was an art major. I had always enjoyed drawing and doodling, so I thought it would be fun to pursue a career in the art sector. This plan was going well until I realized I needed to take a photography course that required me to use the on-campus darkroom in the basement of the art building. My college was in a rural, sleepy town and I had all kinds of fear around going back and forth to a darkroom on dark nights. All my friends were education majors. And this lonely trek to the art building at late hours seemed like the perfect setting for some sort of murder mystery to take place.
Sadly, I let this darkroom dilemma and my fears around it become the catalyst for changing my major altogether. I allowed a literal fear of the dark steer my course, and I regret that decision to this day.
Since college my fears have shifted from darkrooms to more serious matters. When I was 27 and my dad died suddenly, I feared something would happen to someone else I love. When I was 28 and my first daughter was born, I feared I would overlook something important about her health and development. When I was 33 and our third daughter was born, I was fearful about how I was going to survive the long, lonely days at home with three kids age 4 and under. These days I’m fearful about raising tween and soon-to-be-teen daughters in a scary, ever-changing world.
In some seasons fear has been a familiar, uninvited companion of mine. But in recent years I’ve noticed that at certain times fear takes more of a backseat in my mind and decision-making. There are periods when fear is so quiet it’s almost unnoticeable. When I think about what makes those seasons different, I think there are a few things that steal some thunder from fear and its overwhelming presence and power. And knowing and naming them may be the key to fighting back at fear when it starts to creep in and take hold again.
Flowers
I know this sounds ridiculous, especially considering my lack of expertise about anything that has to do with greenery or gardening. But I’ve found the more time I spend outside, the better. And this is all the more true if it involves working with my hands or trying to get something to grow.
A few years ago we put a small raised bed garden in the backyard. The first year I accidentally over-planted and grew more grape tomatoes than any one family could ever eat in a season. The second year I grew a single, sad zucchini and inadvertently planted pumpkin seeds so early that we had to harvest all the miniature pumpkins in July. Despite my unimpressive start, something about going out to a tiny 6×6 plot of soil every afternoon or evening and checking on whatever was growing there was life-giving and refreshing.
Over the weekend I read an article about how researchers who have studied the blue zones around the globe think the secret to living be 100 years old may be linked to gardening. They’ve found it lowers blood pressure, lowers the risk of dementia, elevates mood, and reduces anxiety. Should this even be surprising? A garden was God’s original home for us.
It goes without saying that I have no idea what I’m doing in or with a garden. But I think it might be worth the time to try again and keep planting––if not food, at least a few flowers.
Friends
In the world we live in our technology can deceive us into thinking we’re more connected than we’ve ever been before. But we all know that a WI-FI connection and a real-life connection leave us feeling vastly different.
When the girls went back to school in August I couldn’t wait to start getting into some projects I had put on hold during the summer. So for a few straight weeks I dug into those tasks and spent a lot of time alone at home working on email, doing some writing projects, and checking things off my errands and to-do list. I was getting things done and we were all back on a schedule, but I could feel myself slipping into a more frenzied, frantic pace. I was exactly where fear likes to find us: alone.
By mid-September I realized why I felt off-kilter. I wasn’t giving enough time each week to friendship, and I am always healthier when I prioritize people and real-life interactions over my agenda. Whether it’s a quick coffee, a long lunch, a spontaneous dinner, a shared workout, or a drink after work, there is something therapeutic about the conversation and company of a true friend. Fear is not a fan of friendship.
Fun
When I think back over the past twelve or so years since I’ve been a mom, I have undoubtedly become more serious. As our family and my responsibilities have grown, I’ve grown a bit more intense. And with each new season I’ve tightened the reigns on my ability to relax and just “be” in a moment––if I ever had that ability in the first place.
I haven’t done it in quite awhile, but I love playing practical jokes. One of my favorite things about my husband is that he makes me laugh. And laughter is at the center of my closest friendships. My favorite movies have a heavy dose of humor. I like to laugh. But sometimes I forget this and my own seriousness takes its toll on my soul.
In recent years, nothing has helped me loosen up a bit more than pet ownership. Specifically ownership of a dog whose favorite past-time is acting a fool. Whether its walking on two legs like some sort of circus act or winning a game of tug-of-war by swallowing a sock, her tricks and shenanigans are many. As much undue stress as she may cause with her antics and anxieties, she reminds me to take myself far less seriously. And the more time I spend being in the moment playing and laughing with her and the girls, the less time I have to be fearful about things that aren’t actually happening.
The same can be said for time spent doing anything else in the “fun” category: theme parks, concerts, movies, bonfires, birthdays, etc. I don’t know the science behind all the ways laughter and thrill produce chemicals that fight fear, but I’ve experienced the truth of it. We were created with a huge capacity to laugh and enjoy life.
All of this verbiage about ways to fight fear may sound obvious, elementary, and even redundant. But it’s like C.S. Lewis said about prayer and religious life and churchgoing, “We have to be continually reminded of what we believe.” And I believe fear is a liar.
I just have to be reminded that it doesn’t have to win.
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