Chapter Three: Fear{less}

Fear is a roadblock

A paralyzing trait

A demon

A monster

A reason to escape.

It debilitates

Intimidates

A confidence crusher

A liar

Deceiver

An all-out dream buster. 

It criticizes

Condemns

Creates questions without answers

It stifles

and stunts

A lover of disasters

When fear’s in control

Hope disappears

No faith

No optimism

Just heartache

And tears

It suffocates

It whispers

It discredits your dreams

until faith takes over

devastation’s all you see.

Give faith a chance

Open the door

Close your eyes

So you can see

What the universe has in store.

For the past few years, without realizing it, fear was in control of my life.  Fear of feeling too much or too little; fear of being unloved or abandoned; fear of failing; fear of not having enough; fear of missing out…the list goes on and on.  Every decision I made was brought to you by fear, like the corporate sponsor of my life.

When it became evident that marriage number two was undeniably over, fear stepped in and knocked out every other reasonable thought and emotion in my brain.  I was ashamed at the failure and horrified at the thought of having to face people who’d warned me time and time again.  I was heartbroken and terrified that I would never, ever get over the loss.  I was paralyzed by the thought that I was truly going insane, that I would never function normally again, that I would always rely on a drug or a drink for any kind of respite.  I quit my job, knowing I was failing at it anyway and losing any momentum for life by the second.

What fear looks like. I had a lot of pictures like this but deleted them all because they were too painful. Grateful to have this one reminder of those dark days.

I’ve talked about it a little already but it bears repeating when I say that I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks at a time.  I spent what little money I had on milk, cereal and alcohol and I spent every second that I was awake crying and terrified that the only way I would ever be ok again was if I simply didn’t exist at all.  My kids came over less and less, equal parts terrified and disgusted by what I had become and I was afraid that I was ruining my relationship with them forever.  I was scared to look for another job because I didn’t know what I wanted to do.  I was scared to leave the house because I was so disgusted with how far I’d let myself go.  I prayed more during those two months than I’ve prayed in my life but every single prayer was filled with sobbing and begging to make it all go away…whatever that meant.  I simply knew that I’d reached a point where I couldn’t sink any lower and I didn’t want to spend another second trapped in the insanity that was eating away at my mind.

At one point, I went four whole days without a minute of sleep.  By the third night, every time I’d get close to drifting off, my brain would send an electric shock through my entire body, so terrifying that I wouldn’t be able to calm myself down again for hours.  We’ve all had those dreams that we’re falling right as we are drifting off and we jolt awake but it was nothing like that.  It actually felt like an electric shock that originated in my brain and electrocuted my entire body. It happened three times that night before I finally got out of bed at 4am to start the day, terrified of having another episode.  The fourth night, it happened just as I was about to drift off again and I was convinced I was going insane.  I turned on my bathroom fan to have some white noise that would hopefully settle me down and climbed back in bed.  Instantly, I started hearing banjo music that I thought was coming from the neighbor’s garage and went to the window to see who in the world would be so inconsiderate to make such hideous noise in the middle of the night.  Once I got to the window, I couldn’t hear it anymore. When I got back in bed, it started up again; loud, repetitive banjo music.  I started wandering through my room, putting my ear up to every wall, trying to trace the source of the noise and finally realized it was coming from the bathroom fan.  I flipped the switch off and the music stopped.  I was baffled.  Was the fan somehow carrying noise through the vents in the attic from someone else’s townhome? I stood there for a solid five minutes, flipping it on and off, certain that the music was somehow traveling through the secret passageways above my house.  Just to make sure I wasn’t crazy, I went and grabbed my then 14-year-old son who was still awake playing video games in his room.  I made him stand in the bathroom with the fan on and listen for the music.  Nothing.  I even started humming along to the beat to see if it would help him pick up on what I was hearing.  Still nothing.  I wish I could describe the look on his face.  I started laughing, trying to play it off and he was doing his best to play along, but I know he was trying to figure out if I was drunk or stoned or both.  The poor kid.  It makes me sick to think about. 

I sent him back to his video games, turned off the fan, researched “brain zaps” on the internet and learned that it was a true physiological phenomenon that happens after a severe lack of sleep.  Basically, after going so long without sleep, the brain sort of rewires to think that it can’t go to sleep so that when you get close, as a defense mechanism to avoid sleep, it sends the most bizarre, terrifying shock that I can only imagine might compare to what it would feel like when you’re shocked by an AED machine during CPR (if you were awake).  And the longer you go without sleep, the more it happens.  I felt like I was trapped in a horror show.  I read forum after forum about people describing their experiences and took a little comfort in knowing that while I was in fact cracking, at least it wasn’t just in my head. I finally happened upon a comment on one of the forums where a guy said he was able to sleep when he laid on his stomach.  He still had a “zap” when he started dozing off, but because he was laying on his stomach, the jolt didn’t send his body flailing upward, which meant systemically the reaction hadn’t been as traumatic and he was able to stay calm enough to actually fall asleep right after.  I know, I know…even as I type it, it all still sounds so completely bizarre but I had nothing to lose at that point so I laid on my stomach and prayed for a miracle.  Just as the guy on the forum described, I still had a little “baby zap” as I was dozing off, but the weight of my body against the mattress was the safety net I needed to take a few breaths, close my eyes and try again.  And for the first time in 4 days, I slept. 

Things only got worse from there, however.  Eventually the money ran out.  More than once my mom had to pay to keep my electricity or gas from being shut off and she faithfully took me grocery shopping once a week, always giving me a little extra cash afterward to get me by and my church paid my rent a few times.  I met with therapists, doctors, my bishop and stake president, desperate that someone would wave a magic wand and make it all go away. 

The first time I met with my stake president (for you non-Mormons, it’s like a pastor over a bunch of other pastors in the area…the head honcho, if you will), he had called me in to meet with him out of the blue.  This was shortly after I’d moved into my townhouse; I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about my marriage one way or another; I still had a job and a modicum of sanity left at that point, though I had started to feel it all slipping away. He knew nothing about me but he and his counselors would pray every week for inspiration on who needed visiting and on that particular day, my name came to his mind. I was nervous about what he might want, knowing I still wasn’t officially “in the club” which meant I couldn’t accept any church assignments, which was usually the only reason the head honcho called anyone in.  When I sat down in his office, we small-talked for a minute, realizing he’d gone to school with my little brother and joking about how much different we all were now.  He even told me to tell my brother he was my stake president, just to see what he’d say and sure enough, my brother’s response was, “No kidding.  Not gonna lie, that surprises me.” - which is why I instantly felt comfortable talking to this stranger about the complete debacle my life had become.  I relate so much better when people feel real…when I know they’re not trying to pretend that life’s always been rainbows and butterflies.  We all do.

So the small talk winds down and I’m gearing myself up for his big purpose in calling me in and he stuns me by asking me why I was there. Uhhh…dude, you invited me, remember? Why am I here? (I think that’s exactly what I said, too.)  He proceeded to tell me that my name had come up and he wasn’t sure why but he felt like I could use some counsel.  And then I lost it.  I sat in his office crying for a solid hour about my situation, my uncertainty for my future, how unhappy I was yet how unwilling and afraid I was to make any big changes.  I went through an entire box of tissues, ended up with my strip of glued on eyelashes in my lap and then sat waiting for that magic wand. The very first thing he said to me was, “Amy, you need to replace your fear with faith.”  He said a bunch of other stuff afterward that I honestly can’t remember because that was the first time I’d really understood that I was letting fear control everything. 

I wasn’t living with my (then) husband and knew I wasn’t happy in the marriage but I was terrified of what another divorce would mean.  I truly felt like I was still crazy in love with him, yet I feared him and loathed him the majority of the time. I walked on eggshells, always worried about the next fight, the next blow up, the next scene I’d have to make excuses for, yet couldn’t sleep at night worried that he was being unfaithful when he wasn’t with me, using me, lying to me, insincere when he told me he loved me back.  When he wasn’t around, I wanted him with me, constantly begged for validation and attention, yet loathed him when we were together.  It was the craziest, most insane and unsettled time of my life yet I stayed there, stuck because I was so afraid of the unknown.  It was the most unhealthy, unstable, miserable time of my life yet I fought tooth and nail to hold onto it and I was too sick to realize I had the power to change it all. 

That first conversation with the stake president planted a seed and I repeated the counsel to replace my fear with faith thousands of times over the next few months.  I started seeing a therapist who reiterated those words time and time again.  I saw my doctor almost weekly, begging for a magic pill that would squelch the fear and allow the faith to take over but I wasn’t willing to work for it.  I did what I do best and eventually crawled into the cave that I had furnished, decorated, and stocked up with fear and insanity and I slowly let everything else slip away.

I don’t want to be repetitive and like I said, I’ve touched on bits and pieces of this time in my life already and I’m sure it’ll come up again in future chapters.  There’s really never been a time in my life when I couldn’t use my writing to adequately portray my feelings or circumstances except for those few months and I know I’m not doing it justice here.  The bottom line is, I broke.  I gave up.  I hit rock bottom, then made myself a little tunnel underneath it.  I didn’t want to die but I didn’t want to live.  I was consumed with fear.

One day my son gave me a blessing, reminding me I needed to let faith replace my fear, reminding me that I was indeed greatly loved by so many both in this world and the heavens - especially my God and my Savior, and that basically it was time to take action.  By now the divorce was final, the BMW had been repossessed and all contact with the ex had ended. 

So, I did what I was told and started applying for jobs, most of them jobs I didn’t want but occasionally came across one or two that sparked my interest.  I even got a couple of interviews but I essentially had flares shooting out of my ears every time I was asked about my recent inconsistent job history and current lack of employment and I wasn’t offered a single job.  Not to brag, but up until this point, I’d never, ever interviewed for a job and not received an offer.  The old, confident, engaging and happy Ames rocked interviews harder than the Grateful Dead at Woodstock but she was gone and I was essentially Milli Vanilli getting caught lip-syncing.

Again, straight fear.  Every couple of days, I would slip back under the covers, consumed with a Friends or Will and Grace marathon and cry my eyelashes off every few hours, then start over with the job search and application process. 

When all of my local options seemed to run dry, I took a giant leap of faith and started applying with travel nursing agencies, resorting to the possibility that I may have to leave my home and kids and comfort zone for 13 weeks at a time until something more stable came along. I really only wanted Hawai’i but Hawai’i is THE hardest place to get, especially as a new traveler, so the only options coming through were places like Arkansas or DC or Maine where the cost of living and sub-arctic winter temps did not make me want to jump for joy or anything.

I remember that week started out a little bleak as far as my quest to become a full-functioning adult was concerned. With no solid leads on jobs or any semblance of a real-life at all, I spent a couple of hours power walking my way around my hometown every morning.  It wasn’t warm.  It wasn’t even mild.  It was pull-on-three-layers-of-thermals-under-your-leggings freezing cold.  It was bury-your-face-in-a-ski-mask-that-keeps-fogging-up-your-sunglasses cold.  You get my point - it wasn’t my typical outdoor weather.  But it was either brave the elements or brave the constant anxiety so I chose the elements every chance I got. 

My frozen tundra attire.

Every morning I’d walk until the houses faded into pastures and the people were outnumbered by the animals. As I was passing a field full of cows and sheep one morning, I couldn’t help but notice how calm they all seemed.  There wasn’t a lick of anxiety in the bunch.  Here we were, a layer of frost covering everything, my breath nothing but steam and snot freezing to my face faster than I could wipe it away, an icky layer of pollution blanketing the valley and these animals were all chill as could be.  Not a single one of them was pacing anxiously, wondering how long winter would last. They weren’t crying tears of despair over the fact that someday, they might be slaughtered.  They didn’t lose sleep wondering if there would be food the next morning.  They just were. 

I stopped and watched them for a few minutes and some scriptures from the Bible came to mind: 

“Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap nor gather into barns; yet your Heavenly Father feedeth them.  Are ye not much better than they?... And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin…Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, even so will he clothe you, if ye are not of little faith…Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? Or, what shall we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? For your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things…But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you…Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” (Matthew 6: 26-34)

It really struck me watching these silly farm animals in the middle of a 19-degree winter morning. Nothing in nature worries about survival.  Animals don’t fret, lilies don’t “toil,” streams don’t freeze with indecision.  So why was I replaying “worst case scenarios” over and over and over to the point of complete meltdowns every single morning?  Where was my faith?  Where was my “action” after all the asking and pleading and sobbing prayers I’d offered?  Why was there such an emptiness to my belief?

I started heading home again when another scripture from John 10:14 came to mind: “I am the good shepherd and know my sheep, and am known of mine.” 

An actual picture of the field of sheep the day my life changed.

Ironic that I was mesmerized with a field of sheep at the time?  Maybe.  Or maybe just a much-needed object lesson.  He knows me.  He knows my fears and anxieties and doubts.  He knows my heartbreak and regret and despair.  He knows. And if I’ll let Him, He’ll make sure I get through it. 

Wouldn’t you know it, but not 15 minutes after the “Life Lesson ala Farm Animals”, my phone rang from a Hawai‘i area code.  It was a lovely lady named Carmela and she was calling to interview me for an ER position on the Big Island.  It was for a 13-week contract, starting ASAP, and she offered it to me on the spot.  

Let’s pause for just a minute and let that soak in.  I accepted it right away since I had ZERO alternatives, only to have a major panic attack a day later and seriously consider backing out.  I didn’t want to leave my kids.  That kept bringing me back to a place of doubt that nearly paralyzed me.  But my kids were the ones encouraging me to go.  My little lady even tagged me in some random girl’s Instagram post with the caption, “You will never regret the decision to move to Hawai‘i”. This from my oh-so-wise 13-year-old daughter.  How much more supportive can you get?   

“You will never regret the decision to move to Hawai’i.” -my 13-year-old angel daughter.

Within less than a week I had packed up all of my personal stuff and boxed it away in the garage so my 20-year-old son and his friends could take over my pad until I returned, stuffed everything I thought I would need into a single suitcase, arranged shipping of my car, rented a room from a complete stranger on an island I’d never visited 3000 miles from home.  My dad lent me the money for the flight, the car shipping, the room rental plus some extra to get by until I started making my own money again.  Everything worked out so quickly and so extraordinarily perfectly that as terrified as I was, I knew this was my big opportunity to let faith steer my course.

The night I left for LA to drop my car off at the port, I sobbed uncontrollably as I told each of my kids goodbye.  None of them cried.  They knew this was a “do or die” thing for me and they wanted their mom back.  They smiled and hugged me and encouraged me and made sure I knew they were supportive, proud and beyond excited for me.  I cried all the way to LA, cried while I sat at LAX waiting for a flight and seriously considered turning around and forgetting about the whole thing at least 6000 times.  Giving faith the controls after coasting behind fear for so long was the single scariest thing I have ever done in my life. 

I love Hawai’i.  It’s my “place”, my go-to when I need a break, my serenity, my haven.  I’d never been to the Big Island but I had to stop in Oahu for a couple of days to get my nursing license and I’ve been to Oahu enough times that the minute I stepped off that plane I felt like I was home.  I cried then too, but for a very different reason.  Every worry, doubt, fear or unknown about this little adventure immediately vanished as I breathed in the warm Hawai’ian air and headed for my rental car.  I couldn’t stop smiling, thanking God and the universe for giving me such an amazing place to pull my crap together when I definitely didn’t deserve it. 

What faith looks like.

I ended up living with an incredible, neurotic, overly helpful woman who was my polar opposite and everything I needed at that time.  Her home sat on five acres of gorgeously landscaped jungle on the northern tip of the island known as Kohala.  Every day as I’d leave for work, I’d turn off our street and gaze at the ocean while the sun was rising over it.  I lived there during the peak of whale season and saw hundreds and hundreds of whales during my three months there and it never, ever got old.  I met and fell in love with the kindest people on the planet and for the first time in years, I was consumed with peace, love and tranquility.  I was treated like a local from day one, welcomed by my host, my church members, my co-workers and all the patients I had the privilege of caring for.  I immersed myself in the culture and learned everything I could about the people, their history and the amazing heritage of the island.  I missed my kids horribly and I would often have to push back the thought of all the problems that would still be waiting for me back at home but I took full advantage of the gift I was given those few months.

I needed to leave Utah County.  I needed to be away from the places and people that reminded me of my marriage, my mistakes, my failures.  I needed to be in a place where I didn’t fear running into anyone or worry about how fat I’d gotten or get daily reminders in the mail that there were still thousands and thousands of dollars owed.  I needed the quiet, the meditation, the time alone to really remember who I was, what made me amazing, how much life there was still left to live.  I needed a place where fear couldn’t find me and where the universe was giving me everything I needed at every turn.  It was paramount to my survival and I was given all of it the minute I relinquished my iron clad grip on all my fears, closed my eyes and jumped, trusting the universe to catch me.

I’ve been home for not quite two years now and I miss it every day.  I miss the slow pace, the laid-back attitudes, the warmth of both the climate and the people.  I miss the pure joy that I felt every day.  As my time to return home was drawing closer, I was thrilled at the thought of being with my kids again but incredibly sad to be leaving a place that had quieted and calmed my soul like nothing ever had before.  I was afraid that all of my old habits, fears, and problems would consume me the minute I got home and I’d be right back to square one.  My last day on the island happened to be a Sunday so I was able to attend church with the members I’d grown so close to one last time.  I had done everything I needed to do to be deemed worthy enough to come back into full fellowship of “the club” and I was asked to give the closing prayer for the first time in ten years.  Afterward, member after member came up to the stand to hug and kiss me goodbye, covering me with homemade leis and singing Aloha Oe, the traditional farewell song, to me.  To say I was a blubbering hot mess at that point would be an understatement.  But one of my favorite sweet old ladies hugged me, kissed both my cheeks then grabbed the sides of my face with her hands.  She pulled me close and looked into my eyes, both of us crying, and said, “Dry your tears, child. You are His. You have His smile. And when you smile, the world knows Him. You did everything you were supposed to do here. Now go home and remember the things you learned and never forget who you are.”  

All the leis I was showered with on my last day on the island.

I could go on and on about the experiences I had in Hawai’i and the lessons I learned.  And maybe in future chapters I will.  But the biggest lesson I learned was that faith has far more power than fear.  The scariest thing I ever did ended up being the single best thing I’ve ever done for myself and had I let fear continue to call the shots, I would have missed out on the most life-changing experience the universe has offered me to date.

Did I come home to the same problems? You bet I did.  I even collected a few new ones once I returned.  But the attitude towards them that I developed in Hawai’i has stuck with me and carried me through these months.  Yes, I’ve still had a meltdown or 12.  Yes, I still get inside of my head once in a while.  But I think about where I was two years ago in comparison and there isn’t a single worry that can take me back to that awful darkness.  My God, the Universe, the Motherload all have an abundance of gifts just waiting for me to claim.  I have faith in that now.  I’ve experienced it over and over and over. 

Your God, Universe, Motherload, Holy Spirit, Buddha, or whoever you believe in all have an abundance of gifts just waiting for you to claim, too.  And you don’t need to move to a tropical island to find them. Believe they are here.  Live your life in such a way that you are open to receiving them when they come.  Don’t let the chains of fear keep you from reaching out.  Let your faith be greater than your fear and see what happens.  I promise you, you’ll be amazed as often as you’re willing to be.  As my Hawai’ian friends would say, “Bruh…it’s fine, ya?”  Ya, bruh…it’s fine.

Some of my forever Hawaii Ohana.

Afterward: I wrote this about a year and a half ago. And I told a lot of the same story in a previous blog post that you can find here. I wanted to follow up my last post with something funny and light, just to keep the ball rolling and hopefully keep everyone laughing and following along. But life is funny and an unexpected turn of events this week sent my world into a little tailspin. I couldn’t believe how easily I went back to the “fear zone”. Funny enough, the Stake President I mention in this story has now worked with me for the last year and I’ve had the amazing gift of getting his insight on the regular. Tonight as we were talking (well he was talking and I was bawling), he reminded me to not get sucked back into the trap of fear and indecision. He reminded me of all I’ve learned and how much I’ve grown the last two years and told me I already know exactly what to do; that the power is within me to do whatever I want with this life of mine and that I need to take what I’ve learned and pay it forward.

At the first of the year, I decided my word for the year would be “Fearless”. Not only do I want to focus on being fearless, but I need to FEAR less. Funny that I need that right now more than ever.

As I mentioned before, these posts are a series of chapters of a book I’ve been writing for the last year and a half. Some are funny, some slightly crude, and some are so raw that the thought of posting them for the whole world to see makes my earlobes sweat. I hope you bear with me through all of the ups and downs of these posts and understand that the need I feel to share these doesn’t ever go away until I actually share them. For whatever reason, the stories need to be told, whether it’s to have a good laugh, a good cry, or an “oh my hell, I can’t believe she just said that” moment. But dude…it’s fine.

XOXO

~Ames