One of the most useful things I have done of late, in the realm of conquering fear and stepping forward into my power, is recognizing and naming the voice in my head that is always in doubt, fear, shame, or what I call the what if game. For a long time I called this voice the dragon voice. A huge, overwhelming presence constantly breathing fire in my path whenever I wanted to do something important. Of course I saw the wall of fire and retreated, which means I gave in to whatever message the voice was saying, and just fell over, played dead, and believed it. Most times this would happen even before a battle. White flag up. No contest.
Then one day I started paying more attention. I would hear the voice, stand at the wall, and feel the fire a bit before I ran in the other direction. Hmmm. It was hot. Would I be burned? Maybe, maybe not. I was beginning to question my own furious retreat. What was I really afraid of? I guessed at it, picked apart my childhood baggage for clues, and came up with a few things. Not wanting to be a bad girl was one. Not wanting people to yell and scream at me another. Mostly I did not want the feeling of shame. That feeling in the pit of your stomach that is some kind of ugly cross between humiliation and unworthiness. I really just wanted to avoid feeling like I had done something wrong. What I started to realize was that wrong had been defined by a whole lot of other people in my life other than me. I believed their definitions. Until recently.
There came a day when another voice spoke. It was a message and the name Bertha came to me. (Names have been changed for privacy). I had had a magnificent experience at a weekend mediation retreat and during one of the many enlightened moments I experienced there, I heard “Bertha.” Now, there is a longer story to Bertha that I will spare you for the moment, as interesting as that one is, because I really want to focus on why it was important for now. Essentially, Bertha was the name of my dragon voice. Naming her would be the single most interesting thing I have done to recognize and conquer fear, without that horrible feeling in my body accompanying the fear and rendering me useless.
When I began to recognize Bertha in my head it created space for curiosity. I was no longer all up in my head and its voices, attached to the point of being triggered to react. Giving that voice a name was a huge key to remaining calm and being able to respond to the situation with ease and grace. Even my words, responses in difficult conversations or relationships, came easier and more from the heart. Decisions became more clear, unclouded by Bertha’s judgement, criticism or doubt. And taking action toward the things I really want in my life has become easier, undeterred by Bertha’s persistent what if this, or what if that game.
It was the actual naming of this part of me that was the crazy good piece. Naming her meant that she wasn’t me. It allowed me to separate from the fear and really think about the messages coming through before I acted, or in most cases, ran to hide. And now I just call her out. I am so much better at knowing when she is the one talking in my mind that I can just say, “Bertha! I hear you. But shut up!” I can thank her for her service, because that part of me just wants to keep me from getting hurt, but I can thank her, and let her know I am going to move forward anyway.
Recognizing these kinds of voices in your mind, naming them, and talking to them, all require a disciplined kind of awareness, a practice of mindfulness, which is what that special meditation weekend was all about. It is through this mindful presence that we can access the insights, step back and hear the voices, name them, and create actions that serve our bigger, healthier dreams and desires. It happens in the moments. Each one an opportunity for the practice. Each one an opportunity for a new choice. This is how, moment by mindful moment, we create our future, and every wish, dream, desire and goal we have for a different, happier life.
I am now living happier, knowing Bertha, makes life quite the adventure. But sometimes I get caught asleep. All up in my head with fear, I get caught in a past conditioning and thinking that is habitual. Bertha takes over in these moments, I forget her name, I am afraid, and I have to be slapped awake sometimes, or else I get paralyzed. This is a literal feeling of my legs feeling like lead, sick to the stomach, uncertain, undecided, and unable to move or act. The mental state manifests physically inside of me and man does that suck, because it feels like I can not control it. I am just starting to learn how to deal with this. It’s a practice I have a feeling will be with me for the rest of my days. A practice I will take on, only if I plan to play large in my life. And that is my plan.
So bring it on Bertha.
Does your fear have a name?
