My stepfather, Gordon, played the scariest game with us a couple times when we were little. A target was drawn, and as we fearfully used our finger, tracing the outline of the circles from outside in, we would say, "The bogeyman will get you if you don't watch out," and end up at the center dot and, with all the courage we could muster, make a fateful X sign, trembling and saying, "X marks the spot!" Marking that X on the spot and saying those words, we would take off running as fast as we could and find the best hiding place, since we felt like we had just given permission for the bogeyman's release. "Whose afraid of the Bogeyman ?" we used to chant while teasing that we weren't (while we all were!).
The bogeyman was the powerful sum of all fears, the embodiment of what you could not withstand. When in hiding we hoped somehow that we had the best secret spot that could not be found . Our imaginations raced with images as we heard Gordon seeking us and thinking he may really be the "bogeyman" out there, somehow changed since no person can survive it's coming. Frightened, we prepared our response to the possibility of eventual discovery. When we were found, "the bogeyman" was going to try to scare us with a BOO! We had to do the same thing at the same time but be more scary than scared! When that moment came, hairs standing on end, I bravely shrieked "BOO!" Then I usually ran fearfully from his playful BOOing, to my mother for help, trembling and shaken. Everyone laughed at how scared we were and Mom said that it was enough, that it was too upsetting a game. We begged for more till we played a few more rounds.
Why do kids like to play scare games, like peek-a-boo, and dress up as monsters and chase each other, bringing themselves to the edge of fear? It's part of our development, learning where we begin and end and testing our strengths. My mother often restricted me from emotionally excited events, saying that I got too carried away. I remember how upset I was because she let my brothers and little sister see the movie "The Crawling Eye" but not me, in spite of my pleas that I could take it! It is true that I often got so scared I became hysterical in behavior, having difficulty finding the boundaries of reality. I struggled often with how to maintain a calm sanity and wondered if I would succeed, but always felt this was how I must develop courage and that I should face fears no matter how difficult and not try to deny or ignore them.
I was afraid of so many things as a child. At night I had some "sweet dreams" but usually nightmares that included snakes, earthquakes, falling off cliffs, drowning, many ways being killed, by monsters or animals. The nightmares usually repeated and had me screaming and running. I was usually running from a lion that wanted to eat me. Flailing through the dense jungle, my heart pounding, I would get weak and trip on a branch and fall as the lion pounced towards my back. I woke up screaming! I was not supposed to wake up others. I had experienced Mom comforting me afterwards, then learned that I was not going to be allowed to disturb others' sleep anymore. My stepfather would charge into the room, turn on the lights, and scream at me and hit me, threatening that he'd give me something to be really afraid of if I didn't shut up and let him get his sleep since he had to work to take care of me! His violent interruptions actually were less terrifying than my night-terrors, and the shocking light that brought me quickly back to this reality a relief till the pain and humiliation of the beatings set in.
Then it was a new kind of battle---loss of self esteem and self-loathing, and fears of abandonment. When I was afraid and awake at night I had to deal with this too, and it severely weakened my strength for the battle for balance and a return to calm. I cried sorrowfully and long, trying to muffle the sounds under my pillow so I wouldn't summon the return of my stepfather raging with anger and bringing me more beatings.
Sometimes I fell asleep again and wet the bed during another nightmare, and then I was in "real" trouble in the morning, hearing how lousy I was while being smacked and shoved into the wet mattress with orders to clean up the stinking mess I had made. Other times I tried to cope by staying awake so I could be braver. Then shadows and sounds and sense played tricks with my mind. I believed there were monsters in the closet, in the room, under the bed. Anytime I put a hand outside the covers I was afraid they could pull me under the bed or bite the hand off. I knew a lot of them were not real, only kids' fears as my mother told me and other kids shared with me. Sometimes they were real though; when I was awake or asleep I saw the demons or sensed them and had to fight against their attacks.
When I was very young I had this recurring dream of the leader of all the demons coming to me and trying to tempt me to love him, and of being prepared for my wedding to him. I didn't want to be his and wanted to be rescued. That's how he played with my mind, trying to get me to believe it was hopeless, knowing I feared I wasn't strong enough or good enough, and rejected and abandoned. He whispered to my mind, "Give up. You can't win. No one cares or is coming!" He was hypnotizing and seductive. It seemed better to give in than to fight it, and to let him have his way. But I tried to keep deeply hidden in my psyche so he couldn't detect and chip away at a desire I had for hope, and the belief that somehow there was a way out.
I realized this recurring dream had a level that made it more than a dream, as if it were really happening. Because that devil and I were not just part of the dream but truly present to each other and affected by our actions. We sensed one another. His spirit was stronger and more frightening than all I knew, and he knew how to lure me with pleasure. This surprised me because I believed that I loved beauty and truth, but he spent time torturing me by twisting and distorting images and demonstrating my possible weakness of character (using lust) so that I was confused, believing myself to be a lying hypocrite who was cheating at this ideal of love. And it worried me that he was right about how I'd have to give in because his spirit was very familiar to mine, although I secretly loathed him. It was really happening!
Sometimes I had wonderful dreams where I flew, and explored unafraid with people and animals, and found treasures I shared with otherworldly beings. I was confident and at peace, united with the total and unconditional power of love. Sometimes I have a dream that repeats and is very profound, and I wonder when I wake up what it means in my life.
When I was seven, I dreamed that I was at school on the playground and the kids were mocking me and my belief that I was worthwhile. Then these horses came charging up in a cloud of dust, clearing a path between us, and pulling a coach that came to a sudden halt. The door opened and I was summoned in and crowned and rode away leaving them dumbfounded. I was familiar to this fatherly King inside and we were really present to each other. Our love was perfect union and He was all powerful. He was my long lost Father! I never saw Him in deceptive flesh. He was in spirit and I was in my imperfect little girl self. I experienced unconditional love from Him and all my fears were gone.
Although this was not very creative or complex or hard to understand, it was so important, because it had been a "real encounter," like I had not just dreamed about it but had experienced the unseen presence of the King and felt His love and promise that He was returning for me and that I was valued and loved by Him. He was the loving Father I had believed I had even when everyone and all things tried to convince me otherwise. When I woke up I knew it was true! Somehow I had a Father who was really a king and He was coming back for me one day! I had been stubbornly trying to have hope against overwhelming disappointments. Everyone laughed at the idea of girls who believed they had a prince coming. I had a strong feeling that this was somehow real and would become possible. Soon I learned to muffle screams and wake up earlier so that I wouldn't end up making an audible scream. Then I'd wake still terrified but having to try to quietly cry and get over it and back to sleep on my own, without wetting the bed.
I continued to have many fears into young adulthood. I acted tough like I could handle it all and wasn't afraid of much. Whenever I was alone anywhere (even in the bathroom I imagined grotesque creatures coming for me out of the toilet bowl) my mind played out destructive scenes where I was the victim. When I walked through town by myself I was followed by phantoms. As I crossed the street I played a game where I had to run before a car would come and run me down. When my stepfather insisted I take the trash out at night, all kinds of murderous threats came to mind and I usually ran back to the house, banging into obstacles, swinging the plastic garbage pail behind me.
As long as I was with other people I could forget these fears. I was protective of others and reassuring. Encouragement and compassion were always "my business," I believed, and I was often told by other adults to mind my own business! I had such empathy for the feelings of others, and was often scaring people because I could read their thoughts and address their silent struggles. It hurt me to see anyone in pain and trying not to aid them was almost impossible. At times I did resort to hurting someone either by myself or with a group, and then had such guilt and hatred for myself. I learned in high school about children that were abused becoming abusive, and in fact I had already seen this pattern in myself, when I would lose my temper and call my younger brother an imbecile and retard and nerd and hit him repeatedly because he wouldn't do something I thought he should. In between these times I was getting this kind of assault from family and my brother's friend. So I was afraid ever to have children and wanted to change so I would not hurt my brother or possibly my own child one day. I took early childhood education and learned how to relate to people without losing control. I hoped those who had been hurt by me would heal and forgive me and that I wouldn't act like that again.
As I became an adult I kept busy and involved with people. My emotional life was very bipolar. I was often in great depression, struggling to stay afloat in an ocean of such sadness and pain, and considering if suicide would be the best way to end this misery. Then I would suddenly perceive something that brought me joy somehow, and it would grow with such intensity and happiness that I found it hard to keep my feet on the ground and thought I might just be lifted off in flight. I seemed to be hiding from the "bogeyman" or comforted by this "Holy Ghost." It was the hardest thing to separate the earthly life and the spiritual, and I wondered if it was supposed to be separated. Then what about the complex mind? Maybe it was all fabrication! I overly analyzed everything, and grew so weary of my constant thinking, wishing I could just relax.
When I met my husband, Dale, I found the friend I had always thought I needed---one who knew you and liked you as you were, yet encouraged you to grow. We soon got married. I was literally shivering because of the unseen presence that helped me stay conscious and proclaim my vows. Each day I felt like I grew younger. I let go of fears and embraced the days. Dale listened to me talk incessantly and often about things he didn't relate to. We listened to each other, and I marveled at how I could love this man who was so different. He had behaved so opposite of how I would have, yet we came to the same conclusions about what was most important and reveled in our companionship. Dale told me about interesting things he'd done that I'd always wanted to try but I doubted I could get through. I didn't want to let him see me (nor did I want to continue to be) a victim crippled by fears. He seemed to see me accomplishing what I tried.
On our first anniversary he took me up into the sky with his brother Paul flying a small plane. We did loops and turned upside down and challenged my vestibular system and my feelings of having control over my life. The beauty there was unimaginable and indescribable. I tried to narrate my exalting experience---the clouds that separated sky and earth and made you feel like coming home and gave you the affirmation that you could move among them, that it was part of who you naturally were---the brightness, intensity and divisions of light, and the sensation of being fragile and safe at the same time!
The next anniversary he took me to jump school, where I studied for six hours how to survive a parachute jump from a plane---how I should react if I got tangled in my chute, the parachute didn't open, I hit power lines, etc. But don't worry, they said, parachuting is much safer than driving a car! We practiced jumping correctly from a mock plane and the proper rolling technique, which I had trouble with due to my fears of falling and getting hurt. If we could relax and roll we would sustain less injury, and I was very rigid and tight. I had always had difficulty with my coordination, and making a relaxed roll got a little better but still basically inadequate. When it came time to fly up into the sky they gave me a helmet to use that had been the former jump instructor's, who had died in a jump. I tried not to give in to superstition, but to feel honored by the chance to wear it. We reached the altitude for departure and I was told to sit in the open doorway like we had practiced. Whoosh! My legs were roughly swept to the side,and I was surprised by the force of the wind! Next I was to climb out onto the outside of the plane and hang onto the wing strut with the powerful gusts of wind beating on my body and the fear of being up so high. I heard the jumpmaster command jump! For a moment I thought that's crazy, no way, then threw myself off into the air with the best arch I could manage, trusting in something beyond myself to be there. I was falling with great speed towards the ground with nothing to stop me, and was scared, fearing death by impact or my heart giving way to this enormous stress. There was then a sudden jerk, and I heard and saw my chute open and felt myself mercifully supported and floating. Now it was so quiet and peaceful. I was so contented. I never wanted to leave this moment. Looking at the farms in the Snohomish Valley below was enjoyable, and then I saw Dale and my family and friends who had come to watch. They were yelling something excitedly, then I heard, "Put your legs together" (we were supposed to be in that position and ready to roll or we might break our legs). As soon as my legs complied, I hit the ground hard, and was dragged backwards till I got my footing and was able to stand up elated and pulling in my parachute cords and finally the chute itself.
After we'd been married and had our first son, Leif, then only 18 months old, Dale decided he wanted to visit his sister Gloria and her family in Michigan for vacation, and hitchhike because he couldn't afford it otherwise. I wanted to go along but I had the baby who used cloth diapers and was nursed and often went into extreme fits with screaming, crying, hysteria and rage. I wanted to prove I could still accompany him on adventures even if I had extra added responsibilities. Dale didn't want me to slow him down. I promised I wouldn't, but was afraid as we began planning. He talked about how we could just camp in a field or anywhere for the night. This awakened all my fears, of trespassing and angry landholders taking revenge, camping (scary stories about gruesome killings), all kinds of things happening to my family because I had taken chances.
I talked to family and friends about my plans and fears, including our pastor. He asked me, "What is the worst thing that could happen? Don't you believe God loves you and will be there? So what do you have to be afraid of?" I couldn't believe I was getting this kind of advice and encouragement to go and learn to trust. I felt like a kid who is told there's no such thing as a monster and knows it's true but is still afraid.
I got on my knees at home and prayed really hard to God for advice. The telephone rang after awhile and I said, "Thank you, God, for helping me," as I got up to answer the phone. It was my friend, Alice in California, whom I usually talked to at important times. She said, "What's wrong?" I told her my dilemma and asked how she knew to call me. She said, "You called me. I was talking to my mother and the operator broke through the call and said I had to call you, that it was an emergency." I told her I hadn't called, except to pray for an answer. She said, "Since you have a good connection, put in a word for me." After talking she ended by using the same question, "What's the worst that could happen?" So I took it as a sign that I was to face this challenge to trust.
The trip was an
amazing adventure, seeing the country, meeting the people, and being in constant contact with God since I was afraid of so many things but didn't want to be anymore. I learned that people are basically good and usually help and protect you. We met only with kindness and not any of the exceptional bad eggs. Dale was often upset and annoyed when things didn't go as planned. I tried to help, but he'd get frustrated and remind me that I wasn't going to slow him down. So I prayed quietly and saw my needs met in secret. When we got to Michigan I was stronger on the inside. I learned I had always been more comfortable when in trouble because I remembered how much I needed to stay in touch and listen.
On our return trip we were riding with a trucker, Preston, and he told us we could sleep in the cab of his truck. Dale and Leif fell asleep soon but I was very anxious and kept sensing that we would have an accident. I imagined we'd be in a horrible wreck and I saw Leif and Dale and myself being thrown out and torn apart on the pavement. I had to be quiet like when I was little and tried to muffle the fear and crying. I had a talk with myself and the Holy Spirit, and said,
If this is a premonition and I'm supposed to prepare and don't, can you just let me know what to do if and when I need to, and not worry now or fear the images, but sleep restfully?
I awoke hours later to a loud, harsh bang and jolt. I jumped from the sleeper into the passenger seat, with Leif already zipped in my Snuggli baby carrier, and asked Preston, "What happened?" Dale bounced around in back in confusion.
Preston said, "I think I hit a truck, I don't know. There were no lights, it happened so fast and now I can't stop."
I said, "Let's pray." I began seeing the torturous visions I had previously imagined, along with accusing feelings. I thought to the Spirit,
This is it, what I'm most afraid of, seeing my family tortured in front of me, feeling at fault and not being able to do anything.
The next moment I had the most incredible experience. I heard a voice in my head that conveyed an absolute sense of contentment and peace, saying the words, "My grace is sufficient for you." It was not only a statement of truth (I recognized the words from the Bible), it was like a question to me of whether I was willing to receive this in faith. My soul agreed. I saw up ahead a freeway overpass and felt the Freightliner loaded with steel pipes turning and twisting while sliding towards the cement pillars of the underpass. The calf of my leg was torn by metal and I followed my silent unseen friend somehow, jumping up and moving with Leif from one dangerous spot and another as the truck rolled and slid up the hill and into the dirt just short of the exit for Casper Wyoming.. The truck finally came to a stop, upside-down. Again I said, "Let's pray," and took Preston's hand and Dale's, giving thanks to be alive, and for the lives of those in the other vehicle.
As Preston climbed out of the broken window there were cheers from fellow truckers who had stopped to help a fallen comrade. Then I handed out Leif and climbed out with Dale to see the impressive sight of the trucks in piggyback sequence with all their lights on. As one trucker came down the highway he went to the back of the line, and the first in line left to continue on his way. We knew they were also in prayer with us.
That offer and acceptance has forever altered my spirit. I stopped being afraid of every little thing, and even really big things. I don't mean I don't experience fear anymore, but on those rare occasions that I meet with real terror, I remember the moment, and am transported to a place of perfect peace.
