It is easy to get caught in the negative cycle of describing and feeling a difficult problem you have. With my diabetes, I spent years telling stories of how hopeless it was for me to avoid low blood sugars when exercising. I described, and over-described how awful it was to witness my father, who had type 1 diabetes since I was one year old in 1966, have low blood sugars and almost die time and time again. I relived the fear again and again. Fear is an easy trap to fall into. I know I have slipped into the fear groove many times. One thing I’ve learned is that the fear groove is surprisingly comfortable. And what we find comfortable is difficult to leave.
When one is in the fear loop, one is in the Stages of Change phase called Pre-Contemplation, which is the phase where there is no intention and perhaps no awareness or at least under-awareness, that change would be helpful. Learning this helped me realize how self-harmful the fear loop is for me.
This past New Year’s Eve, I set the resolution to notice and directly confront my fears as they arrive. This resolution was in play when I broke my ankle a week after my 51st birthday. The break happened two weeks before I was to ride 100 miles at the 25th anniversary of the American Diabetes Association Tour de Cure. I had trained for this ride for 16 weeks, and I felt strong and ready to ride 100 miles. The ride was how I wanted to commemorate successfully living with diabetes for 35 years. It was the first time in my life I had ever broken a bone.
Within a week of the break, I noticed that fear had set in with a vengeance. Initially I wasn’t sure what the fear was. I just noticed I was holding my breath often. I also noticed it was extremely difficult to accept and ask for assistance from my many friends who offered help. Finally, in the spirit of confronting my fears, I sat down and took many deep breaths. I calmed my body down. I closed my eyes. I asked my guardian angels to guide and support me. Then I turned and asked my fears to please step into the light. I told my fears that I wanted to understand them.
Not surprisingly, fears are not fond of the light. They much prefer to skirt around in the subconscious and mess with us in the background. Finally, after patiently waiting, one big fear stepped into the arena in my mind. This fear said, “No one will ever want to be with you. You now can’t walk. You can’t even walk your dog. You can’t push a grocery cart. Why would anyone ever love you? You might never again be able exercise. Why don’t you just give up? Besides, now that you can’t exercise at all, you’re going to get super fat.”
Whoa. That fear really let me have it.
I had to keep breathing and stay calm in the face of this outburst from this vicious fear. I let the fear dance around a bit more. I let it wear itself out. When it was done ranting, I asked, “Is there any more?” It let me know that it was done, for now.
I then told it that I was grateful for it letting me know how worried it was and how worthless it felt that I now was. I told the fear that it was safe now, and that I was glad it found the courage to tell me its truth.
That shocked it. I noticed that slowly it shrank. Slowly it stopped looking prickly and sharp. I kept breathing deeply. I realized, as I felt and contemplated what it had told me, that much of my strength and identity of how I had healed from the sexual abuse I survived as a child, was through my identity as an athlete. That identity got me in my body and gave me strength. Losing close contact with that identity in the face of my broken ankle, awakened dormant fears. Those fears came out with a vicious bite.
As I quietly sat there, breathing, breathing, breathing, I noticed that ideas for possible actions started to come to me. First, I thought about what value I offer the world besides being an endurance athlete. Value that means something to me. Values that I value.
What came to mind were: Trustworthy. Consistent. Reliable. Energetic. Integrity. Loving. Organized. Efficient. Enthusiastic. After I listed these values, I asked the fear, “Do you hear these values I bring to the world? There is more that I offer the world besides being an endurance athlete.” I could see the fear trying not to listen, but it was.
When I stood up, I noticed that something had shifted in my left leg, the side that I broke my ankle. It felt stronger, like the fear had been living in my leg, and it had loosened it’s grip.
Have you ever talked to your fear? Tell me.
Fear is a big one that we don’t talk about. Thank you for sharing your perspective and teaching us all that we are bigger than our feelings. I appreciate your ability to share what you’re learning along the way.
Linda,
Talking about fear is an important topic for all of us! Your blog post inspired me!!! I deeply appreciate our friendship, as we celebrate and navigate through joy and fear and all of it!!
Mari