{of which I am afraid}

For some reason I have spent most of my life poised, ready, clenching my body into a steel statue of fake bravery, ready for the worst. And the rest of the time that I am not attempting to mutate into a Hummer or a tank (Transformer style) I am attempting to medicate and numb my fear with a variety of "oh so healthy" fillers and things.

For as long as I can remember, I have never been able to be alone. Not with God, not with myself, not with a mouse, not in a house, not on a boat, not with a goat... (copyright Dr. Seuss). Being the youngest, you would think I was blessed with permanent playmates, but no. I ended up desperately fending for myself most days, to try and win friends. When left alone, I would create my own friends. No, not imaginary or invisible friends. My stuffed animals, duh. They became my children, my students in my school, my friends, my companions. I created a world of imagination where people who always liked me existed. Where I was meaningful. Where I was never, ever alone.

My family knew, without a doubt, I was starving for attention. Mostly because I am a born performer/creativist with a deep need for approval and conversation. Also because the worst thing they could ever do to me was put me in time out. I doubt I have ever been more depressed than the five minutes I spent alone with my moms creaky wooden chair and blue wallpaper. You might even say this was the darkest "hour' of my life.

Being told to go play by myself was like sentencing me to a desert with no water or sandals. Painful, desolate, and seemingly stretching time into an eternity.

The other day, a friend of mine asked me a question that struck this chord, then plucked at it and played it for quite some time. It keeps haunting me because, I think I already knew the answer deep in my heart.

"What would it be like to just be alone with God?"

I stammered. I spluttered. I attempted to use my gift of words to make up some crappy fake answer. Take note that this came after a period of mandatory 5 minute silence. This was a rough outing for me. 

I couldn't answer. I had nothing. Well...that isn't true. I didn't want to answer. Because I knew, all along, that being alone meant there was an opportunity to be "found out". And there is nothing I fear more than people really knowing me in my deepest, scariest parts. 

Being alone means there is empty space for my brain to expand, and if any of you know anything about me, my brain confined is already scary enough. It doesn't need any room, because giving it room is like letting a wild horse that was taken captive run free again. Rampaging, scary, afraid, determined to run down any form of reason.

Allowing my brain room to expand means thinking. Thinking means fixating. Fixating means anxiety. Anxiety means self-loathing. Self-loathing means destructive behavior and anger. Anger means pushing people away because, in reality, I know I am not so great.

Anger means being honest with God about who I am and what I think. Anger means there are things that I do that God hates, and sometimes things I know I should be doing that I am not. 

Allowing my brain to expand means self-examination, confession and repentance, change, and needing grace. It means admitting things I can't do, and apologizing for when I try. It means really facing the pieces of myself that absolutely disgust me. It means staring anxiety itself in the face. It means looking at fear and trying to say "I don't believe you" (when I secretly still do...). It means acknowledging the ways I have let people down, fallen short, hurt the ones I love the most, and sinned outrightly against the will of my one true love; God. 

So you see, being alone is the thing I fear the most, because of the place it leads me. 

Although I will forever be a people lover, needer, obsessor for life, although I will ALWAYS be more energized by talking, relating, and just plain being with people; a small part of me knows that there is a piece to that which comes from my deepest fear. 

So maybe I need to learn how to give myself adult time-outs. Maybe I need to take my toe over that self-inflicted line and step into my fear altogether; to learn to be alone with God.