Truth or Dare

"I'm not addicted," he said.
"So that is why the last two times we've been together for more than
a few hours you wanted a cigarette?" I teased. "What do you call that?"
"Denial," he grinned sheepishly.

At least he was honest.

But are we always so aware of our denial? It's it usual more
hidden, easier to ignore than the physical cravings. Do we use
denial to cover up our own fears and insecurities, to hide our human
desire and neediness, the things that put us most at risk, that make
us most vulnerable?

Driving down Hillsborough Avenue heading to meet 'Yppi Nythsa' at
Starbucks (the only place I we could find halfway between our
parents' homes that was guaranteed to provide decent coffee and a
cozy place to chat for the hour or two we would be allowed [Our
friendship is maintained through emails and these rare short visits
about once a year]), I remembered the nights I dreaded driving the
rather empty stretch between Oldsmar and the Tampa line. Now, with a
few new subdivisions and a few new convenience stores, the open
stretch feels welcoming and relaxing. Maybe then I had an older,
less reliable car, maybe I heard too man stories from our feminist
college days and the nightly news in Florida of women as victims when
their cars were stuck on the side of the road. Or maybe it was
fears I learned from my mother and her friends. No place was safe
and everyone was out to get you. Maybe it was denial that life was
never safe, trying to convince myself if I avoided dangerous places,
I would never be harmed.

Now, it all seems very silly, to me. Not that caution is not a good
thing, but generally I seem to somewhere along the way lose the fear
that everyone is out to get me, to hurt me, to steal from me. Maybe
because there is little, materially, that I truly fear losing (which
is probably a bit of denial about how afraid I am to lose everything).

Even yesterday, leaving a nice pub in a strip mall in Dunedin, my
sister insisted on walking me out. I was about 12:30pm, reasonably
late for Pinellas County. There were a lot of people eating and
smoking outside. The parking lot was well lit. I reminded my
sister how I have navigated LA, NYC and foreign countries alone.
"My car is just a few hundred yards away, right behind that truck."
"I'll just watch," she said. It is nice to have someone care and I
didn't mind, but thought it unnecessary.

Back when I lived in Florida, I probably would have made her walk me
all the way to my car.

Fear was once such a large part of my existence and I tried to recall
how or when I set it aside. I suppose it was partly a conscious
decision, not wanting to let it rule me, living despite my fears.
Inspired by fearless friends who traveled alone and saw risk as
opportunity, I figured I could do that too. Life is short. What do
I have to lose?

Then I became the one people saw a fearless. Each move everyone
wondered at my courage to face the dangerous streets of New York
City, to live in the road rage dominated and earthquake prone Los
Angeles, to go to the hurricane vulnerable Florida, to visit Costa
Rica with my pathetic Spanish, or even to go to a café alone, to
force myself to face my laptop with the distraction of phone,
internet, cleaning, or TV, and most of all, to go dancing by myself.

Yet, in all my fearlessness of strangers and being in public alone
and even, at times, at nighttime, I still cannot seem to let go of my
fear of being too close, of getting hurt. It makes me say things I
don't mean. I try to pretend I am not as attached or vulnerable as I
am. I put myself out as someone who is a free spirit, not needing
anyone or anything. I don’t think I really fool anyone but myself,
especially those who I do let get to know me. And I know I have
hurt others by my protective aloofness. I lose judgment and
consistency.

This fear is much more real than the stranger lurking in the
shadows. This fear I cannot hide from, cannot avoid by not being in
the wrong place at the wrong time. This fear I deny rather than face
head on. I am aware, but afraid.

In the end, by indulging in denial, are denying ourselves of what we
truly want, manifesting our worst fears?

Addendum:
Just after I wrote this, I bought a book by the Buddhist monk, Thich
Nhat Hanh that I opened the book randomly to this page:
"When you practice looking deeply, you see your true nature of no
birth, no death; no being, no nonbeing; no coming, no going, no same,
no different. When you see this, you are free from fear. You are
free from craving and free from jealousy."

Being drawn to this passage reminded me of what a wise man once told
me which I will attempt to paraphrase again (it was my profile
headline, and sadly I forgot to write it down): You must believe you
possess that which you want to manifest or attract into your life.