Fear is a central part of who we are and, as a species, it is why we are alive and breathing. It’s hardwired in our brains like the silicon chips in the complex, hyper-fast computers that enable our daily life.
For thousands of years, humans were closer to the middle of the food chain. Fear helped us navigate all the dangers in our environment and, for early humans, helped us survive and evolve instead of being dinner for a hungry saber-toothed tiger.
The part of the brain called the amygdala is the location neuro-scientists have pinpointed as being where our “fight or flight” response originates. The response is a very helpful function when facing grave danger, like being stalked by a hungry predator outside the safety of the cave. However, when not functioning properly, we can misjudge potential dangers and reinforce fear-induced actions with repetition. The amygdala gets seized and stuck in a fear response and needs some serious repairs or even a rebuild (metaphorically, of course).
The all-knowing “they” say we should write from your own experience; you should write what you know. That might, or might not, be true for fiction writers, however, it’s completely relevant for me writing about fear and anxiety.
As someone who lived with fairly severe anxiety disorder for years, I have a close relationship with irrational fear and its limiting, deflating effects on life and relationships. When untreated, anxiety and depression can creep slowly, and somewhat unnoticed, into everyday reality like an invasive vine wrapping around a tree. Eventually, you feel completely encased in your irrational fears and without opportunity to reach forward and grow. Isolating and depression-inducing, anxiety can eventually make things seem pretty bleak and hopeless.
Compassion for others, generally, could be a starting point to soften the sharp edges of our society when times seem particularly fearful.
The view from this stage of recovery from debilitating anxiety and addiction makes the world seem brighter and a lot bigger. In that sense, I can only feel fortunate for this fresh perspective, a chance for a second act in life. There is always work to do on the road to health, for all of us. It’s a lifelong process.
Perhaps, the central idea I’ve taken from my larger journey with mental health challenges is that, even at our darkest moments, there is potential for something better.
Sometimes we are the ones who reach out, and other times we might be the one throwing the life jacket.
For a lot of people, keeping fear in perspective can be a challenge, however, knowing that you’re never truly alone in this life might be the sentiment that helps spread calmness and courage to continue on.
Robert Skender is a qathet region freelance writer and health commentator.
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