Tag: fear

  • I wear masks, and create elaborate façades hoping that no one will see through them, but keep praying that someone will.

    Cynically Jaded (via cynicallyjade)

  • When you have a son you worry about 1 penis, when you have a daughter you worry about them all.

    Raven’s Wings

  • Please hear what I am not saying…

    Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I’m afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me, but don’t be fooled, for God’s sake don’t be fooled.

    I give you the impression that I’m secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water’s calm and I’m in command and that I need no one, but don’t believe me.

    My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness. But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.

    But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope, and I know it. That is, if it’s followed by acceptance, if it’s followed by love. It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It’s the only thing that will assure me of what I can’t assure myself, that I’m really worth something.

    But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare to, I’m afraid to. I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I’m afraid you’ll think less of me, that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me. I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothing and that you will see this and reject me.

    So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I tell you everything that’s really nothing, and nothing of what’s everything, of what’s crying within me.

    So when I’m going through my routine do not be fooled by what I’m saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying, what I’d like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can’t say.

    I don’t like hiding. I don’t like playing superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me but you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to hold out your hand even when that’s the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you’re kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings— very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings!

    With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator, an honest-to-God creator, of the person that is me if you choose to.

    You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic, from my lonely prison, if you choose to. Please choose to.

    Do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It’s irrational, but despite what the books say about man often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive.

    Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.

    ~ Charles C. Finn

  • I wear masks, and create elaborate façades hoping that no one will see through them, but keep praying that someone will.

    Cynically Jaded

  • The joy of fear

    Heaven forbid we should live a romantic life. It is possible you know. To live a romantic life and still remain functional and practical about all life’s challenges. But it’s easier to fit in with the jaded crowds than to be true to ourselves, because the risk of failure is too great a source for potential embarrassment. POTENTIAL embarrassment. But the reality of the joy that we’ll experience if we lived romantically now will forever escape us because of our fear of embracing what we desire, lest it be stripped away from us in an untimely fashion. 

    We set ourselves up for heartache and failure, all the while pretending to be comforted by our superficial success in worldly endeavours, ensuring that not another living soul will ever see the romantic fool in us for fear of being mocked or ridiculed for that which is closest to our hearts. So fear drives us to suppress the romance, and embellish the facade so that it becomes the reality of our existence, when in fact it’s the reality of our deception.

  • Suicide of a Romantic

    What is it that stops us from affirming others while they’re alive, as opposed to waiting for their demise before singing their praises? Perhaps we’re afraid of being held accountable for our kind thoughts which denies us that ever convenient exit of ‘I knew it’ or ‘I told you so’ or ‘I should’ve known better’? Or maybe we lack the belief in our own virtues and would rather not have people peering so closely that they may see in us what we despise about ourselves?

    Maybe it’s just that we’re so afraid of being hurt, that we’ll do anything to prevent others from getting too close, so that we don’t ever give them a view of how much they mean to us? That would give them far too much power to hurt or manipulate us. So instead, we create our defenses and do it so well that we end up believing that how we present ourselves to others is all we have to offer.

    Heaven forbid we should live a romantic life. It is possible you know. To live a romantic life and still remain functional and practical about all life’s challenges. But it’s easier to fit in with the jaded crowds than to be true to ourselves, because the risk of failure is too great a source for potential embarrassment. POTENTIAL embarrassment. But the reality of the joy that we’ll experience if we lived romantically now will forever escape us because of our fear of embracing what we desire, lest it be stripped away from us in an untimely fashion.

    So we set ourselves up for heartache and failure, all the while pretending to be comforted by our superficial success in worldly endeavours, ensuring that not another living soul will ever see the romantic fool in us for fear of being mocked or ridiculed for that which is closest to our hearts. So fear drives us to suppress the romance, and embellish the facade so that it becomes the reality of our existence, when in fact it’s the reality of our deception. Sad, isn’t it?

  • I’m Thankful…or am I?

    Gratitude is not simply a state of mind, but rather a state of being. Appreciating someone but restraining yourself from openly expressing it, verbally or otherwise, is of no use to them, and only sows the seeds of selfishness in your own heart. True appreciation would result in a willingness to acknowledge the impact that someone else’s efforts or contribution has on your life. Anything less cannot be appreciation. If we are willing to consume, then we must also be willing to contribute as well. Otherwise we introduce an imbalance in our lives that can never lead to healthy relationships. Don’t let your fear of allowing significant others into your personal space result in the destruction of beauty in your life.

  • Spare The Rod…No!

    I’ve tried taking the ‘new age’ approach to raising a child, and the major flaw in the approach is the assumption that the child is a willing and co-operative participant. The result of the child not being that way inclined, and the adult persisting in the same approach will inevitably result in an adult with a dented ego and a nearly non-existent self-esteem.

    I am a product of my upbringing (as I’m so often reminded by a dear friend). And the way I turned out, from a discipline and behaviour perspective, I believe is admirable, if the constant acknowledgements from family and strangers alike are anything to go by. I haven’t succumbed to the temptation of drugs, alcoholism, promiscuity, delinquency or violent behaviour, to mention a few vices, and I pray that I never will. My point is that a large part of this discipline that I have is directly related to the strict measures that were taken in my upbringing.

    If I didn’t respond in a respectable manner to an adult, or didn’t comply with a reasonable request from an adult, or if I back-chatted or told lies, I got the belt against my butt quicker than I could say ‘Eina!’. So it’s this same upbringing that prompts me to consider why it is that suddenly ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ is encouraged, only so that the same adults can hold their heads in their hands crying about their wayward teenagers later in life? Why is it that suddenly all the measures taken to raise us into responsible human beings are being rubbished by liberalists who focus on research and studies in abstract but have yet to raise their own kids in a very hostile world?

    The bed wetting continues with my daughter, although her overall demeanour has improved considerably. The conundrum that I face right now is simply this: If kids are allowed to simply outgrow their bad habits, what lesson is that really teaching them? Are we then saying that it’s acceptable for them to do what they want when they’re ready to do it, or is it our responsibility to teach them that compliance is not always an option that they have a choice in, but that at times they must comply even if it’s not something they like doing? I’d much rather establish more controls up front and then teach them how to let go later, than to struggle with an overly indulgent teenager who thinks that conformance to certain moral standings is repressive and that dabbling in controlled substances is a freedom of expression.

    The liberals have gotten our world into the sad state that it’s in. The extremists are pushing us further down the same ridiculous path. There is a desperate need for moderation in the way we raise our children. But in the absence of any principled leadership to guide new parents in this process, it’s difficult to see an end to this destructive cycle. Adults need to stop looking for affirmation from their children about their child-rearing skills and instead look to the living examples of others that have raised respectable and responsible members of society. That way, chances are that they won’t back down from disciplining their children just because they’re afraid their kids won’t love them.

    In my experience I’ve always found one consistent truth with kids. They need boundaries and rules. And when things go bad for them, they polarise towards those adults or role models that established healthy boundaries with them and not towards the ones that were liberal and chose to spoil them at every turn. The balance we need to strike is to create opportunities for them to express themselves creatively and actively, but always cognisant of the fact that there are boundaries beyond which their behaviour encroaches on the rights and feelings of others. It’s this sense of responsibility that will hold them in good stead throughout their lives.