Free from the Fear of Change

I wonder when it is in life that we become so afraid of change?  

Is there a moment – a preset point that presses once we encounter a particular occurrence or course of events?  Does it come upon us suddenly as a fear, or is it a slow stroll towards attempts to control?  Is it when we become more aware of ourselves in our adolescence, realizing the impact our world has on us, and vice versa?  Or perhaps it happens once we enter adulthood – when we settle down, select our mate, start the season of our offspring – perhaps that’s when?  Perhaps it is in that precise moment [of parenthood], when we truly begin to care for another beyond ourselves, that we begin to attempt to avoid the kaleidoscope of change?  For myself – I believe this latter reason, the onset of adult obligations/parenthood, was indeed the moment that I also birthed my aversion of change. 


As a child, I lived quite a carefree life.  Every bit of what I remember of myself was spent either in the moment, or idly dreaming of what could be in time way down the line.  Even after seemingly scary experiences throughout my youth, I still went about my days with a courageous curiosity that welcomed every bit of difference myself or life could create.  Near feral and definitely free, any attempts others had of forcing me into conformity was met with a rebellious resistance that rivaled the most unmovable mule.  I was the child that could rarely be caught let alone caged.  

Through adolescence and into early adulthood, I maintained most of my youthful whimsy and wonder.  I reveled in every opportunity for experience.  Lessons were often learned within many of those experiences, allowing for streaks of “good sense” to surface as cautionary signals from time to time, but none typically potent enough to keep me content or wholly careful.    I moved from one moment to the next, just being, still dreaming, hoping the next day would bring something new, something different, something exciting.  To me, change meant challenge, and I was always curious enough to chase after it.  

Then one day in my early twenties, there came the stirrings of an experience that promised change on a whole new level – motherhood.  As with any challenge/adventure at the time, I met that mission with same resolve and excitement, and over the course of the next few years, I became a mother twice over.  For me, this experience was the change to end all change; it was the catalyst of my conformity – job security, home security, life security became don’t speed, don’t swim, don’t make waves, don’t play, don’t party, don’t fly, don’t jump, don’t climb, don’t change.  All the things that held my interest in my youth were suddenly second-guessed and often deemed unsafe.  Being present to care for the beautiful, innocent lives I created contradicted my previous practice of seeking every opportunity for the sake of simple experience. The most pressing priority became the preservation of myself to ensure the safety and success of my offspring.  Any time that curiosity caused a craving for change, it was quickly discarded by the weight of rational thought.  And to me, I think that is how things needed to be at the time.  I think I needed to chain my challenging nature to meet the needs of my new commitment – for in my youthful haste, I do not think I ever committed to anything other than experience.

Fast-forward another twenty years into my future, and I found myself a sensible, safe, and somewhat stagnant woman.  It seems my attempts at controlling change for the sake of security had also stifled my natural appreciation and acceptance of the risk and willingness that is required if any experience is to result in personal growth.  Instead, it was replaced it with an anxious personal avoidance and a remote admiration for the achievement I saw in others.  Don’t get me wrong, I was still one curious Carol – I still loved to learn, but at my pace, my place, through books, through watching, through witnessing the lives of others passing by.

But lucky for me, I realized the limits I was placing on myself, my growth, before my reticence had become irreversible.  Lucky for me I became aware that my avoidance of the very change I once craved had left me living in a shadow of myself, with anxiety and fear at the forefront.  Somewhere along the line, simple aversion had “changed” to full-on fear – fear of flying, fear of trying, fear of failing, fear of falling… all these fears crippling the confidence I had once carried myself so proudly with.  I guess I should have known that change would continue in one way or another, just as I thought I could never be caged, so could change not be.   

Once I recognized what I was doing to myself by allowing these fears to have their way with my life, I went to work attempting to undo all the damage they had done thus far.  I forced myself to stretch, to step beyond the barriers the fear had built.  I went to college.  I read whatever I could find that would give me insight into myself.  Instead of simply admiring someone for their achievement, I looked at the path that lead them where they wanted to be.  I built relationships beyond the walls of my work, family, and familiar friends.  I forced myself outside of any and all comfort.  Anytime my conscience chided my confidence, I knew that was the very direction my compass should point – for that which gives us the most fear, is likely to be that which also gives the most growth.  

Treading the path of change is still a challenge.  My confidence and courage did not pick up with same potency when I left it.  Every day is a struggle to stay focused, feet-forward.  But with every step my stride grows surer -- surer of my path, surer of my plans, surer of my ability to be the me I was always meant to be -- Carol uncaged -- fearless and free from the fishbowl -- a force, a fire, filled with the desire to live, to learn, and help lead others to the path of their purpose by learning to accept the challenge of embracing their own world of change.  

    

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; 

the real tragedy of life is when men 

are afraid of the light. -- Plato