Follow the fear, love the hate

(There are some minor spoilers in this post for the hit series, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and the feature film, The Babadook, so if you haven’t seen these, GO WATCH THEM RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THEY’RE AMAZING – and on Netflix – and then come back and read this.)

It’s officially October, one of my absolute favorite months. Fall is here, along with the cooler weather, changing leaves, pumpkin-flavored everything, and my favorite holiday, Halloween.

It seems only appropriate then that I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of fear and what truly scares us. Not so much in the sense of goblins and monsters, but more so about the demons that are actually the scariest of all – the ones that lurk within.

The legendary improv coach Del Close coined the phrase, “Follow the Fear,” a phrase that many in the comedy and entertainment world have heard of before, and it doesn’t take a psychologist to recognize that this advice is not only helpful in improvisation, but in life as well. But lately I realized that for me, following my fears is more than getting on that new roller-coaster, watching that horror movie, or riding that haunted hay ride. Following the fear is more than just getting on stage, asking for a raise, or telling someone you love them. Recently I’ve become fascinated by the idea of not only following the fear, but becoming the fear. You know what’s scarier than ghosts, axe murderers, or even The Feels? My self.

Inside each of us, in the dark recesses of our subconscious, there is a shadowy place – an elephant graveyard if you will – that hides and represses the true things we fear most, traits we never want to acknowledge, emotions we should never feel, and beliefs that would shock those closest to us – and most of all, shock ourselves. Carl Jung called it the Shadow, and he asserted that every human has one. There are a lot of different theories (Freud has his own interpretation, for instance) on this idea of Shadow self, and if you’re interested, you should definitely look into it more, but for me, I like to think of it as a self of many layers.

credit unknown, but creepy right?
credit unknown, but creepy right?

I finally watched the hit independent horror film, The Babadook, directed by the brilliant Jennifer Kent, and not only is it a well-made, sophisticated, and superbly scary film, it delves deep into the popular boogeyman trope and all of the ways we are haunted. Single mother Amelia and her precocious son, Samuel, find themselves stalked and haunted by a very menacing force, one that represents to me many things – grief, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, mental illness, and most of all, our Shadow selves.

When we are very small children, we live very reactionary, impulsive lives. As we grow older, we are told what is right and what is wrong, what is acceptable behavior and what is not. We lose our baser instincts and repress traits and emotions that our friends, community, and society deem as unacceptable. We transform ourselves into becoming who we think we should be, who we want to be seen as, in order to be more palatable. Jung calls this the Persona. But those traits and emotions never really go away. As little Samuel reminds his mother, “You can’t get rid of the Babadook.” These unwanted traits and emotions get boxed up and placed in the basement or broom closet of our minds, lying there, forgotten, but very much still there.

As I continue to work on my self-growth and self-awareness, or as I like to call it, Adulting, I have lately found myself in a strange place. As I’ve told my friends exhaustively, it feels like I’ve bought a beautiful old house. I’ve painted the walls, stripped the floors, papered the shelves. I’ve unpacked and decorated, and I’m about to have a wonderful big housewarming party soon. But then I go down into the basement, and I’ve found that there are actually dozens more boxes to unpack that I have completely forgotten about. They are huge and unwieldy, filled with old, dusty, rotten things that have started to fester and smell. I desperately do not want to go through all of those boxes, especially with a party so soon, but the smell is starting to creep up through the floorboards. The funk crawls up into my nostrils, taunting me, haunting me, and I know it will never go away until I go back downstairs and sort through all of that stuff. (Ugh, this again, my friends are thinking.)

Gross, right? The best metaphors for me usually are.

Those boxes all belong to my Shadow self. But I don’t think the contents are only baser emotions and traits from childhood we’ve repressed. Freud would say that it can also stem from past traumatic events, from something as emotionally scarring as abuse to seemingly sillier ones, such as farting in your first grade music class in front of everyone. (That’s just, you know, an example, not like that happened to me…) But Jung also believed that what we hate in others, is actually a part of our Shadow selves. In fact, he believed that our Shadows are so much of an integral part of ourselves, that we not only project that self onto others, but we even subconsciously attract people in our lives that exemplify our Shadows. (Which is why I will no longer exclaim, “Why am I always surrounded by crazy people!” outloud.)

For me, it’s all of these things and more – it’s base instincts, it’s past trauma, it’s projected fears and hates, but what interests me the most is that collective whole that stems from all of it. When am I the absolute ugliest? Not in a cute Manic Pixie Dream Girl way that’s just such an adorkable hot mess. Not in the pre-makeover montage romantic comedy sense either. But when am I truly ugly? What is it about myself that I don’t want to admit, much less even look at?

Scary, right? Well, let’s go there.

But why? You might be thinking. Isn’t fear a useful emotion to warn us of danger? Why go to these dark recesses? Why dredge up the past? Why voluntarily go through the pain?

Because you can’t get rid of The Babadook! Jung believed that actually ignoring your Shadow only makes it stronger, only allows it to grow and can eventually take over. You give it power by not standing down to it. At the end of the day, pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t make the Big Bad go away. Only confronting your Shadow is only the first step. But your goal isn’t to defeat it. You can’t. But you can make friends with it.

artwork by Alex Juhasz
artwork by Alex Juhasz

Jung writes, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate… To confront a person with his shadow is to show him his own light.  Once one has experienced a few times what it is like to stand judgingly between the opposites, one begins to understand what is meant by the self.  Anyone who perceives his shadow and his light simultaneously sees himself from two sides and thus gets in the middle.” (Jung, 1959, p. 872).

So how do we do that? I’m not really sure, I’m figuring that out myself right now. But WWBD? (What would Buffy do?) She wouldn’t wait around. She’d go after the Big Bad first. So similarly, like Spike in the season 6 finale of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer, it’s my turn to go into the deep, dark caverns that I’ve been ignoring for so long.

I recently was joking with a very wise close friend about how I hate mirrors. They’ve always freaked me out, so much so that I never kept one in my room and would cover ones with towels if they faced the bed at night. He replied, “I bet you could psychoanalyze the shit out of that.” I joked back, “What, you mean I’m afraid to truly look at myself? Yeah probably.” At the time, I was kidding. But he was right on, and so was I.

I now try to look into mirrors as often as I can. Not to make sure I look good, but to see and accept my flaws. I check in with myself when I’m feeling Shadow-y and instead of trying to squash those feelings or dismiss them, I Lean In. Another wonderfully wise friend of mine says he likes to just acknowledge his Shadow when it pops up: “Hey you, I see you. I hear you. It’s okay.” It doesn’t always make those emotions magically disappear, but I’ve found it lightens the load a bit. So I’m now sitting with my Shadow, hanging out with her, and sometimes even giving her a hug or two. Because like it or not, she is a part of me.  And by acknowledging her and accepting her, I get that much closer to fully loving my whole self. As another very wise friend of mine once said, “This thing, this whole beautiful, unimaginable, unrepeatable, glorious mess is OURS.”  (Yes, I have many wise loving friends, for which I’m very grateful.)

painting by Steven Kenny
painting by Steven Kenny

Yes, it’s absolutely terrifying. Yes, I’m going to have to go through a myriad of extremely hard tests, and yes, I’m going to get my butt kicked. But if I don’t, the boxes will only continue to fester until the smell takes over my whole house. The Babadook will possess me and take hold, leading to destructive, unconscious actions. And I will never get my soul back. But unfortunately, I don’t get a season hiatus or end to this movie. These kind of battles are lifelong, methinks.

I see now that I’m using too many metaphors. But you get it.

So go forth! Follow The Fear. Feel Your Pain Fully. Love what you Hate.

Because in doing so, you might find that’s when you’re truly free and your truest self. And that self is beautiful. And I think the benefits will prove to all be worth it in the end. In fact, so far this Shadow work has already positively influenced all of my work, which makes perfect sense, as Jung believes that in this darkness actually lies the root of creativity.

And as my one of my beautiful previously-mentioned friends says, “It’s in the darkness we find our strength.”

 

Be an Adult.

I’ve been formulating this post in my head over the past few days, and I feel it’s only fitting to write and post it now, on the 27th anniversary of my birth. There’s a lot in the news lately, but I’m going to resist writing about that, (there are plenty of articles out there that are written by far-more qualified people than I), and hone in on a more personal, individual topic:

Being an Adult. (Insert collective groan here)

What does that phrase even mean?

To some people, it means paying your bills on time, staying organized, buying a house, starting a family. Or it means staying in more on weekends, focusing on your career, and letting your pool of friends shrink to just those few close ones. Some think that you’re “only as old as you think you are!” or that “you can grow up, but growing old is optional!” A lot of people resist becoming an Adult, because that means childhood is over, and Old Age (and subsequently Death), are that much closer.

But when I say, I’m finally becoming an Adult – what I mean is, the choices I make on a daily basis have been changing lately. I have actively been choosing Love over Fear. I have been taking responsibility for my life, and my actions, in a way I never have before.

Remember when you were like this little girl walking in a grassy field? Yeah, me neither. Photo credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/4444/
Remember when you were like this little girl walking in a grassy field? Yeah, me neither. Photo credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/4444/

Regardless of psychology, I do believe that as we grow, we take on the weight of our life’s experiences. We hurt, and those wounds become scars. Rather than risk opening up those wounds again, we protect ourselves with barriers. Why risk another scar? Why hurt again?

You understand this metaphor. But as I ranted to my roommate the other day, I believe that we need to not protect our past wounds, but willingly, happily, and gratefully, go running head-first into the possibility of pain. We should embrace the suffering. Be the responsible Adult and accept the wounds, scars, and broken bones with kindness and Love.

Let me try to elucidate.

I was an extremely willful child, as my parents can attest. Even at 3 years old, I was ever the storyteller with a flair for the dramatic. I would talk off the ear of whoever would listen, usually recanting the full script of Beauty and the Beast from memory. I even convinced myself that my life was in fact, a TV show. When I realized that at some point, the series would end and I would not get a spin-off or direct-to-DVD movie, I was devastated. Nevertheless, I still had the same penchant for drama throughout adolescence and early adulthood. I wanted to be loved, I wanted attention. Desperate to be seen as the leading ingénue I always wanted to be, I became an insecure doormat. Yet I was still extremely volatile. My emotions were fickle, fiery, and hard to control, and I took them out on those closest to me. Every time I was incredibly sad or angry, I was subconsciously convinced that I would feel this way, forever. I wanted to be a better me, but in a materialistic sense. I ran to the pain, but with masochism, not as acceptance. I didn’t love myself. I didn’t think I deserved it.

Over the past couple years, I’ve noticed that I’ve slowly grown calmer, quieter, and more introspective. But rather than emotionally retreating, as I have so often in the past, I was actually just observing. The many (usually painful) wake-up calls I’ve experienced over the years have forced me to realize that I don’t have all of the answers, and I’m continually becoming okay with that. Experience has led me to conclude that nothing lasts forever, and I’m continually becoming okay with that as well. I continually strive to listen more than talk (still working on that, friends), and really be in every moment, that life has to offer.

Earlier this year, when my best friend suddenly passed away, it felt like all of the work I had done on myself was lost. My old enemies of self-hatred, anger, desperation, all came rushing back. I was simultaneously appalled at my regression and yet felt justified. I had just lost my best friend, I could act however the hell I wanted, right? And partly, yes, that’s true. But what astounded me, even during the darkest moments, was the awareness of my behavior. I was not blindly acting out, rather I was very much conscious. Instead of shutting down, which I could have easily done, I chose to love myself, be kind to myself, and treat myself with care instead of condemnation. I let the emotions flow through and out of me, instead of shoving them down. If my friend had died a few years ago, I’m not sure I could say I would have the same experience. But my spirit had already been in the long process of Growing and Loving when it happened, and I proved to be stronger than I thought.

After the first few months, I rose out of the heaviest of my grief and suddenly felt incredibly inspired. I had always struggled with my weight and dreamed of being thin, but never really did much about it. So I now follow the ketogenic diet, and lost 15 pounds within weeks. After temping and freelancing for over a year, I faced facts and got a new full-time job. I created a financial budget for myself, something I had resisted doing all of my adulthood out of fear. I started dating again, but without Ego. Some dates didn’t work out, and I calmly walked away from those who were unavailable emotionally or destructive instead of clinging or swearing off dating forever. I started actively implementing all of my spiritual growth in the physical sense, for the first time in my life.

This is not a humble brag. Rather I tell you this because that’s what I believe is Being an Adult. It’s looking honestly and without condemnation at your past behavior and choices. And whenever faced with a new one, choosing to not go towards what is comfortable and easy (which is usually Fear), but rather face the struggle head-on. I’m not magically perfect, I never will be. My body, my career, my love/social life, and my Self will always be areas that I have to actively work on. Like our elders have always said, sometimes the right choice is the hardest one to make. But by recognizing my own destructive behavior, I can make the continual effort to choose Love. I choose to Love myself and others. My heart is open, in a way that is reminiscent of my earliest childhood, before the shame and scars, but also in an entirely new way.

Today, I am officially older. I can say now that I am 27. But we grow older every day, not just on our birthdays. With that old age comes pain, joy, experience, knowledge, and hopefully wisdom. I may be a little more worse for wear than I was before, but I am alive. And I have grown. For that, I am incredibly grateful.