The folly of extreme worry

Lately I’ve been thinking about what I’ve learned in the past 20 some odd years with regards to the defeat of the terrible phobia I once suffered. I meticulously documented my struggle in imagery and writing back then (including having a journal here at OD), and I even kept track of and made copies of correspondence I had with people about my fears. At the time I did not think I’d ever banish the fear; I just figured that I’d have to live with it. As noted, I did have a lot of outside help including some professional therapy. It took a few years, but I got over the worst of it. Looking back, I realize that I failed to fully appreciate the help that more than a few people willingly offered me. This was because those whom I questioned were an integral part of the situations I feared. I didn’t think I could trust them, but I didn’t know who else to ask. But the bottom line was that I got over it. I won’t say that such situations are always smooth sailing for me, but they don’t inspire a never-ending grinding anxiety beforehand.

For me, the main take-away is that I realized that suffering from and entertaining such dread isn’t worth the trouble. This doesn’t mean I can’t or shouldn’t prepare for something challenging, but that to waste the mental energy to worry intensively about it is folly. Especially if such worry does nothing to change the situation. When I was in the grip of such fears, it would psychologically exhaust me and make things worse all around. The other thing I learned is that squeaky wheels really do get the oil, so to speak. For a phobia like mine that revolved around situations where other people are seemingly a big part of the problem, I found that I could ask for help. Which was hard to do, as those I needed to ask were the very people I feared… I just figured they were out to get me and there was no point in establishing any sort of communication.  I had a terrible fear of certain invasive medical and surgical procedures, which made it necessary to deal with doctors, nurses and other providers.  I wrote more about this in a recent entry not long ago and what it was like to suffer from that kind of phobia.  Avoidance was my game, but it was getting me nowhere. But when I did ask questions and make requests, many of them were surprisingly accommodating. That was another major linchpin for me to get over that fear. The idea was that I didn’t have to be a hapless victim and that I could make my concerns known and take back some control. Thus I was able to be a participant and not feel like I was just being dragged along for the ride, so to speak.

These days I deal with any sort of fear (even though I no longer suffer from actual phobias) the same way. I don’t waste time agonizing over it, and I do what I can to address the things I might be able to mitigate or change. I suppose I’m lucky, as I have family members who never got over their fears. Oddly enough, it seems my family (as well as some family by marriage) have/had a lot of phobias. My grandmother was terribly afraid of heights. My mom suffered on and off from agoraphobia (fear of open spaces, like stores and malls). My uncle was afraid of flying on airplanes (he could manage it only if he had a few drinks before and during the flight). My cousin was terrified of crossing bridges and driving on freeways. She is the one who had to go thru Delaware to get to Ocean City to avoid the Bay Bridge. My husband’s ex also suffered from this fear in addition to the fear of heights. My husband is terrified of the dentist. My sister in law was terrified of snakes and spiders. My brother in law is afraid of snakes, though not to the degree that his sister was. Perhaps that sort of thing might run in families, who knows?