Today is the birthday of British actress Lillie Langtry (aka the Jersey Lily), mistress of the Prince of Wales, Edward Albert, in the late 1870s, and life-long obsession of Texas judge Roy Bean.

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It is the 39th anniversary of the Miracle in the Andes, in which the  Uraguayan rugby team’s plane crashed and the survivors were forced to resort to cannibalism, all well-documented in the book “Alive!” by Piers Paul Read.

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It is also National Face Your Fears Day.  That’s an interesting “holiday”, isn’t it?  Since my teens, I’ve considered myself a pretty courageous person.   I can clearly remember times when I felt I was no longer brave, and I always took steps to do something to reassure myself that I was indeed brave.  Like exploring New York City or going to the Caribbean on my own.  It’s a good feeling, to feel your own bravery in your soul.  It makes you proud of yourself. 

I have some of the standard fears:  heights (which developed in my late 20s and now is abating), mice (I don’t fear them as much as they creep me out – being the quick, jumpy, unpredictable little things that they are) and the parental fear of something happening to my child.  I also have the unusual fear of yeast.  Yes, yeast.  The stuff they use to make bread.  Don’t know why.  Just is what it is.

Kelsea has a fear of clowns and garbage disposals.  Her friend Morgan is terrified of spiders.  Tug was afraid of long stick-like things, such as brooms and fishing poles.  He being a shelter dog, there was probably a reason.  Pat is afraid of snakes.

But these are all fears that we can name, and so we can process them in one way or another, whether through avoidance behaviors or trying to confront them.  The scariest fears, in my opinion, are the ones you can’t name. 

The nameless, faceless fears.  

J.K. Rowling did an excellent job of portraying these fears as dementors in the Harry Potter series.  Things you can’t quite identify, but which can take all the joy out of your soul, leaving you hollow and dead inside.  I have written before about “Personal Dementors“, but then, I was thinking about living, breathing human beings.  Now, I am thinking about the thoughts and fears with which we torment our own selves.

If you name something, I think it loses some of its power.  It becomes more of a “known” and therefore holds less of the fear associated with the unknown.  In transitory life times such as these, it’s a daunting task to name everything I’m afraid of, and it exposes my vulnerabilities.   That’s hard to swallow.  But I think it might be helpful.  I looked back at an old entry in which I listed things I could control vs. things I couldn’t control.  It’s much the same thing.

So let’s get started, shall we?

Fear of being alone:  Monophobia
I do not fear solitude and I am not afraid when I am alone.  I am afraid of never having romantic love in my life again.  All those statistics echo in my head about a woman over 40 being more likely to be killed by a terrorist than to get married.  Well,  I don’t want to get married again, but it would be nice to have a partner.  Not having a partner – that’s the root of my monophobia.

Fear of making changes:  Metathesiophobia
This has always been a big one for me, one of those things that every boss I’ve had has commented on — that I don’t adjust to change well.  I’ve never really believed that about myself, although I know I’m like my father in some ways, and he was NOT one who cared for change.  Perhaps what all those bosses have seen is that I don’t adjust to stupid, irrational, pointless changes well.  Frankly, they piss me off and they are all too common in the workplace –  and often just a way for someone else to flash how “powerful” they are..ok, enough of that rant.  Back to the point. That said, it does take me a long time to make big changes.  I, like my father, want to be sure I’m doing the right thing (see “fear of making mistakes” below) and the bare fact is, there are no guarantees in this life. 

Fear of cold:  Frigophobia
While not a severe fear, this is growing in me.  The whole cold, gray, lack-of-sun thing, that makes my hands hurt is something I am coming to fear.  I need to be somewhere warm and have the choice of coming back to the cold from time to time.

Fear of being wrong:  Atychiphobia
Aren’t we all?  Yes, but usually, the decisions aren’t life-altering.  I’m in the process of making decisions that alter not only my life, but the lives of others.  What if I screw it up?  What if  I destroy Kelsea’s life?  What if I can’t provide a home for my dogs and cats because I want to live in the Caribbean and Pat decides to waltz off to China to be “da man”, leaving me to take care of everything and give up my dreams (again)?  The quote comes to mind, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”  I know I’m not wrong in trying to move on.  It’s just, as LOLcats would say, “Iz I doin it right?”

Fear of dependence on others:  Soteriophobia
This is an interesting one.  I am so unaccustomed to depending on anyone other than myself, and have had such a bad time with trusting men who have let me down, that I’m not sure if I’m afraid of depending on others or if I’m afraid of NOT depending on others.  I’m not sure if that makes sense?  I want to.  I want to trust.  I don’t want to go back to that place where I have lived for years of  “Everybody hurts, and everybody leaves.”  I think that comes back to having a partner.

Fear of failure:  Kakorrhaphiophobia
A lot like fear of making mistakes, but bigger.  I’m not really afraid of being a hobo.  But I am afraid that I’m going to find myself working at some fast-food restaurant if I can’t do anything with my writing and I can’t find another job that I like enough to stick with.

Fear of new things:  Kainolophobia
This is more fear of the unknown – I actually like new things.  It’s just, what if I try something new, and I fail?  Clearly, tied to fear of failure.  And perhaps fear of change as well.

Fear of poverty:  Peniaphobia
See above – fear of working at a fast-food restaurant.  I don’t want to be 60 and eating cat food, living in a shitty apartment.

Fear of neglecting my responsibilities:  Paralipophobia
How will the universe judge me if I move to the Caribbean?  If I take a year off?  Do I deserve that stuff?  I don’t want to neglect Kelsea or the animals.  I am afraid that I am going to have to (once again) pick up Pat’s slack.  I won’t let those I love suffer just because he doesn’t take care of them.  (And I’m not abdicating my role in taking care of them.)  But that’s the same trap I’ve been in forever.  I won’t let them be sacrificial lambs for his learning, because if he doesn’t care enough to care for them, he doesn’t care enough to learn the consequences of his not caring for them.

Fear of being ridiculed:  Catagelophobia
This is my fear of putting my creativity out there.  I’ve written about this before.  It also ties to my fear of failure.  And a definite holdover from my shy childhood.

Fear of being trapped:  Cleithrophobia
The trap of staying in an unsatisfying life because I refuse to neglect my responsibilities.  The ultimate trap.

I may speak of these more later, but it’s been good to delve into them a bit today.

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