I had an interesting IM conversation recently with a friend who knows me really, really well, and I got called on the carpet, big time. "How is it you can stalk wild animals with a camera, get 25 feet from a black bear to take his pic with no fear at all, yet you place so little trust in people?" This wasn't a question I was expecting. I thought quickly on my feet, or so I thought. "Because the laws of the animal kingdom are clear and known. Wild animals are not as unpredictable as you think. If you observe them carefully you can sense them on a primal level. I've had no reason to fear them. I know exactly how to behave and what to expect from them. People do not operate by the same laws," I replied, in my standard, pseudo-scholarly detached way.
"Yes, but at some point you need to let that go and realize people are not all the same. Sure some are dicks, but some are worthwhile. Some do genuinely care about you. I don't want you to miss a golden opportunity and a shot at real happiness because you're too afraid." I have to admit, that comment rattled my cage. My first instinct was to deny it, but about a nanosecond later I realized there was no point to it. It was true. "Fear is healthy sometimes," I finally wrote in reply. "It protects me. It's gotten me this far." His reply hit me between the eyes. "It's kept you alive, but it prevents you from living." Damn. Right again. And beyond ironic, since I've pretty much lost any fear of death I had. I believe it's true what they say; there are fates worse than death. Even worse, my friend knows this; he knows every dark corner my mind has been in. He knows me better than anyone on the planet.
There was no escaping. "What are you so afraid of? There's a risk of being hurt in everything, but there's also a risk of being happy. Isn't it worth it?" I had to answer honestly. "I don't know. I really don't. I told the Universe I would give up happiness if it meant giving up despair. I begged it for apathy. I was almost there. Then the Universe threw me yet another curve ball. A big one. And I don't know where I stand or what to do." Being well aware of my convos with the Universe, the reply was simple, yet deep; "Why don't you just go with the flow?" Dammit. He had me. "I'm trying, but I'm afraid." Checkmate.
Of course I know this conversation was not meant to hurt me; rather it was to force me to think. It was to force me to look in the mirror at things I don't want to see. I always thought I was such an open person. Nothing could be farther from the truth, it turns out. People only see what I allow them to see. I'm extremely guarded, but I've become a master at not appearing to be to the casual observer. Speak much, say little. That's me. If I do open up to someone it's carefully orchestrated. For a visual thinker it's hard to explain but it feels like treading on thin ice and walking toward someone standing on solid ground; I don't know which path to whom is really safe. I don't know who might be deceptively leading me toward impending doom. I was getting content just standing in my safe spot. But then along came the temptation of a warm fire on solid ground, and the unexpected desire to run to its warmth. Dangerous. Two steps forward; one, maybe two steps back.
When it comes to people I've always trusted my gut and it's never steered me wrong. What I've realized through my aforementioned conversation, however, is that my intuition protects me and keeps me away from bad people but that's it. I know who to avoid almost immediately. Yet, I don't trust it when it comes to leading me toward the good. I don't trust the "good vibrations," because what goes up must come down, and when it comes down it comes down hard. I'd rather not be lifted up high only to be dropped from that height. Repeatedly. It's not heights I fear; it's the fall. Last time I fell I asked the Universe not to pick me up if I'm only going to be dropped again. Just leave me lying on the ground. I'll pick myself up.
I know I can give off a stoic appearance. I know that I appear to be a pillar of strength to many; I keep things hidden to protect them, and to protect myself. But that doesn't mean I don't feel things very deeply. I do. Perhaps too much so. I am much more sensitive than I let on and more than anyone realizes. And there is one universal truth; people are always the source of my pain. The problem is, they can also be the source of my pleasure but for how long? A week? A month? Eternity? How do I trust the unknown? And the bigger question is, should I? It's cold standing on the ice but it's much colder below it, and the fire is so inviting....
