I am in awe of those who are fearless. I strive everyday to be so..

I was born fearful. Or perhaps, I learned to fear shortly after birth. I was born to a young mother, the second of four. I needed radiation therapy for the hypothalamus pressuring my chest, hampering my breathing. Legally blind in one eye and nearly so in the other, I started out with two strikes against me from the beginning. I was taken care of largely by other family members as my mother was quite ill at my birth. I was abused in infancy, by my mother’s best friend from high school, who would take me to "play mother" for a day.  Too often, some aunt or relative seemed to want to take me off with them, as  I was a gregarious, lively child I am told. These always resulted in some form of abuse. As a toddler, I was molested by an uncle, then he was succeeded by my grandfather, and later my own father until I was a teen. Physical, verbal, and mental abuse from both parents was a constant.My mother made a  point of letting me know she had not wanted me. She began taking her anger out on me from an early age.  I knew I was not wanted and hated her early in life. I acted bold when challenged as my anger from all of the abuse came through at times, and I would fight back in school, take on all comers in elementary school, and at home with my older sister. The anger made me fearless for short periods of time, but in the most inappropriate ways. Beaten regularly by my parents for being "obstinate" and having a great strength of will, constantly berated for anything and everything, my fears grew, until the stress was overwhelming.

I lived in fear of doing the wrong thing, at home, in school, in social situations, in church, it was a constant in my life. 

I was married while still in high school, pregnant with my first child. I thought I had chosen wisely, but my husband reinforced all the negatives my parents had ingrained in me. Several years later, I realized he was not one I could stay with forever, but it took me 22 years to divorce him. In the meantime, I found therapists wherever I could, always trying to find a new answer to do better, make my life right. Life was a constant upheaval, as his answer to his issues would be to move; from state to state, in total, about 25 moves during the marriage. I worked on preparing for a better me, a better life, and learning anything I could to enhance the upbringing of my children.

Slowly but surely, some of my fears lessened,my constant anxiety calmed, and some successes helped to reinforce my inner strength.

I worked hard on my self-esteem, gained some confidence after the divorce and went to college with my children. I moved across the country and started a new life.  Unfortunately, I was attacked on the job and now disabled, I have been fighting the system for five years.  My future is uncertain. The fears are again greater, as is the fight against them.

Looking back I see that no matter what hit me, or where life took me I landed on my feet. I kept a mantra in my head, found about the time of my divorce, a quote by Claire Booth Luce, "Courage is the ladder on which all other virtues mount". It was courage I needed to overcome the fears. I tried to grab on to it, focus on it, and hold it close whenever I faltered. It made all the difference.

It helped me follow through with my divorce, work to get an education, make big moves, even try to learn to date again. But the fear is always there, something on which I work against constantly. It may slow me down, as life has, but it will not defeat me. I cannot allow that. I cannot live with that.

I am in awe of those who are fearless. Those who have no concept of what it is to be raised without love, without positive regard, affirmation, respect, support. Those who cannot imagine what it is like to live in an environment of abuse, whether in the family of origin, or one in which we thought we had chosen well, then learned otherwise.

I do not expect them to understand. I do expect and at times demand that they do not judge. I have read the stories of many here who have overcome enormous odds to survive, and lead productive lives. I applaud them.

When I awake in the morning, I look hard for self-esteem, courage, and to find some joy and blessing in each day.

You all are so very fortunate to have had lives of courage, love, support, and success. It was also because of your own inner strength and what you made of your opportunities. I applaud you all. I appreciate the opportunity to read your stories. And for those of us who were born anything but fearless, we can glean strength from your words, and enhance our own work and growth.

Courage and Blessings, 

Catriona 

I lost my fears when my husband received orders from the Navy taking us to Sicily. There, I realized that I’d go under for the final time if I didn’t take matters into my own hands. Within nine months, I was speaking Italian moderately fluently, translating for my husband. We were sent to Spain, where I did the same again. I handled everything, even having a banking account in a Spanish bank. This, from a backwoods girl who’d never taken a foreign language in school. Oddly enough, it was my husband who’d studied Spanish in school, yet could barely string a sentence together. I look back, and think "Thank God I chose to step in! We would have drowned otherwise!" 

I love my husband, but find it hard to sit back and let him take on projects now. The main reason, I think, is his time frame is NOT the same as mine; let’s get it going and get it done, so we can relax sooner rather than later. I’m learning to slow down a bit, and he’s learning to speed up. As to when we’ll meet in the middle is anyone’s guess! 

Got it! It came after two years of an emotionally abusive marriage. When I took my daughter and left, I realized I didn’t have to put up with any garbage ever again!

I married my best guy friend, went back to college, started a career, enrolled in graduate school, and have been raising my daughter to be a strong woman. 

I learned confidence when I studied abroad during college, living in Madrid, Spain for 10 months.  We had to rent our own apartment, do all our own shopping and cooking, register for university classes, all in Spanish. I had studied Spanish for 8 years by that point, but none of that prepared me for the pressure of functioning completely in another country, comprehending when speakers use local jargon or speak quickly, and managing the metric system of weights and measures.

Ironically, I had little confidence in myself before that year. I had been the Valedictorian of my high school, and kept top grades at college, managed my money well, but still my family and friends constantly worried about my competence and emotional ability to cope. Having to fend for myself in Spain for a year convinced me that I was indeed competent enough to live and function on my own.  My family noticed the difference in me immediately when I returned.

I still have my moments of fear (the economy has me in its stranglehold at the moment), but I know that I can survive anything, and that all will be okay again before too long.  That confidence, that ability to sustain hope, is the greatest legacy of my year in Spain.

Margo, going to bed and sleeping on it is really good advice.  I have a tendency towards anxiety and when I feel myself starting to short-circuit I go take a nap, calm down and look at things rationally.  The key is recognizing when we are ready to fall off a cliff and taking stock.  When that gets away from us, we get ill, we function erratically and achieve very little. 

Good advice and a good article.

Fearlessness. Can’t say I’m totally fearless, but that part of me that is, I learned from my Grandma.

As a 4 year-old Mom and I were living with her since my father was in the service. My grandmother learned from one of her sons that my father had a reputation for "stepping out" on my mother. So when he came home one night my grandmother, a tiny [about 4’11"] little European woman who totally forgot the English language when she was angry, grabbed her broom  and slashed it through the air, whacking him out of the house. All the while, she screamed at him in Slovak and kept calling him a giggolo. In retrospect the entire family laughs at that story. But I tell you, you didn’t mess with my grandmother. She was the almighty protector of all people who needed her.