The fear underneath

After years of therapy and meditation, I have gotten pretty good at decoding my feelings. I take note when I have a strong reaction to something or move in a certain emotional direction.

The other day, in becoming closer with a good Buddhist friend, I noticed that part of me was anxious after hanging out together. In investigating this feeling, I realized that my subconscious mind is fearful that I might be abandoned by him. This is a rather strong reaction. But thinking about my history in getting to know people more intimately, I realize that I have tendency to hang back in the beginning, seeing if a friend or business colleague or love interest is going to stay around. Interesting!

So where does this feeling come from? I don't have a long history of people disappearing on me. But I do have one critical event in my life that rocked my world forever: when I was five, my beloved and younger sister, Teresa, died suddenly (of a rare kidney cancer). In my childhood eyes, one day I was playing with her and the next day she was dead, on display at the local funeral home. I could not understand how this could be, and I went into a state of shock and fear that lasted for years. And as my business partner Jane has wisely pointed out, not only did I lose my sister on that day, I also lost my family too: my dad and mom changed suddenly, disappearing into their own silos of regret, grief and hurt. In short order, my world changed.

My adult self understands all of this very well, but the young boy inside me is still cautious and wants to know he won't be abandoned if he gets closer. He wants to know that he is safe. I do my best to hold this tender part of me, not either over-indulging or ignoring his feelings. But tender he remains.

Above is a picture of my sister and me about one year before her death (she was in remission but I did not know about her disease at the time). The second photo is of me at Teresa's fresh grave site, taken insensitively by grandmother, when I was in a deep state of shock and grief. Notice my face, my awkwardness and my discomfort for having to pose for this photo. I was not a happy camper.

Yet I really love this sweet and sad boy, and try to pay attention to him -- not change or ignore his fears. Yes, I continue to learn that experiencing his emotions is as important as understanding them.