Fearfully Fearless: Facing the Darkness and Being Okay with Being Afraid

“There were all kinds of things I was afraid of at first, ranging from grizzly bears to ‘mean’ horses and gun-fighters; but by acting as if I was not afraid I gradually ceased to be afraid.”
                                                                                              - Theodore Roosevelt 

I recently watched a documentary on The Roosevelts and was struck by the amazing character and bravery of our 26th president, Theodore Roosevelt. One of the bravest men in our nation's history was fearful? Who knew! I have to admit, I've never faced bears or gun-fighters, but a few weekends ago I face one of my biggest, scariest, most ridiculous fears - The Dark. I capitalize the words because for me, darkness is a living thing that stalks me on a regular basis. For my other nyctophobics, can I get an "amen?" I actually thought I broke my foot a few years ago after taking a flying leap onto my bed and missing my landing because I was too afraid to rationally walk across the room after turning off the light before bedtime. It's been a fear since I was a little girl and although it seems silly, it's very real to me.

Up until last weekend, I didn't think that this childhood fear affected anyone but myself. I mean after all, who cares if I turn on lights anytime I go into a dark room? It wasn't until my daughter had a complete meltdown over going outside after dark to retrieve a book that I came to the sobering reality that she literally watches EVERYTHING I do. At first I was frustrated that she wouldn't do something so simple as go onto the back porch to get a book. I wasn't asking too much of her and yet she was clinging to me as I desperately tried to force her out the door. Crying, she begged me to come with her as I continually told her how safe she was. I explained to her that there was nothing to fear, but she was having none of it. Finally, exasperated and ready to show her how ridiculous she was being, I picked her up, carried her to the back porch and sat her down on the couch. Through sobs, she begged me to take her back inside. She didn't even feel safe with me beside her! And then she uttered a phrase I hated hearing escape my precious girl's mouth, "I'm afraid of the what's out in the woods; it's so dark!"

I peered out into the darkness and strained to see the edge of the woods past the barn, out of the reach of the porch lights. I felt her pain. We live on 12 acres and the majority of it is thick, ominous forest, but the mom in me had to tell her differently. I reassured her that there was no reason to be afraid and that she was perfectly safe. At this point, there were more people on the porch. Chloe had a friend staying the night and she had come downstairs to see why Chloe had vanished. I knew at that moment I had a choice: either validate my daughter's fears, go back inside and lock the doors to be safe or show her what bravery really looked like. The two girls were both standing apprehensively on the porch when I took my first step towards the darkness to prove there was nothing to fear.

Probably shouldn't have read this so much as a kid.

It was a quick walk through the backyard, past the barn, and then I was standing at the edge of the deep, dark woods. No flashlight. No moon. No hand to hold. No one else, except four curious eyes intently watching me from the porch. I glanced back at them and then turned to face the night. I sighed. This was not what I wanted to do, but I knew it had to be done. I had two options: I could live in fear or I could move forward. I took a deep breath and then took one step past the treeline. My heart was racing, but I refused to give in to my anxiety. With each step the lights grew dimmer and the forest enveloped me.  Further and further in I went until it was just me. No lights and no sounds other than the things that go bump in the night. I closed my eyes and stood in that moment. I was definitely scared, but I felt stronger than I had ever felt in my life. I was fearfully fearless and it was amazing. With every strange sound and snapping twig, I dug my feet into the earth and refused to budge. This was my Goliath and I was facing it head on. 

I'm not sure how long I stood there. It seemed like an eternity and a split second all at the same time. Eventually, Chloe began calling my name and I turned to leave. I took strength in turning my back on the thing that scared me the most. I know it sounds crazy, but I came out of those woods with a completely new perspective. 

There are many scary things I've faced this year. I haven't stood without trembling, but I think that's fine. I've decided that it's okay to be fearfully fearless. It's how we respond to being afraid that is important. I think the fear let's us know we are stretching ourselves. I want to stretch. I want to grow. I think moms do this all the time and it's good for our children to see us face our fears. And I think it's good, dare I say beneficial, for our children to see us scared. To act like we aren't afraid robs us of the chance to show them exactly how brave we can be. To act like our souls are at such peace that fear is impossible is deceitful...because it's just not true. It doesn't have to be the dark we fear. It can be getting a flu shot or petting a snake at the zoo's reptile exhibit. Or leaving a man who clearly no longer loves you. Whatever it is, it's okay to be afraid, but dig your heals in and face it. My child knows I'm afraid of the dark. She now knows that I'd face it to prove to her it's okay to be scared and still stand boldly to tackle my Goliath.

I still run from the dark. If I had to walk into the woods right now I'd have to conquer that fear all over again. But now I know I can do it. And Chloe knows that, too.