Fear & Falsehoods
Photo By Eric Kamoga - Pexels
I have only vague memories of sitting in a dark theater watching Batman Begins. I do not remember who I went with, but anyone who knows me well could surmise that I was not the one who selected the movie. In 2005, in the beginning years of college, I was less concerned with my own preferences, and focused almost exclusively on belonging.
The imagery that has stuck with me since is the visual of Scarecrow unleashing bugs, darkness, and chaos from the mouth of his mask. I know the intended impact was to instill fear and disgust in the eyes of the viewer, but I remember, in that moment, I felt a strange sort of longing. I remember thinking, “I wish I could do that.” I do not mean that I wanted to terrify and torture all those around me, as Scarecrow did. I mean the release of it all. I wish I could open my mouth and let all the fears, sadness, lies, and shame I’ve absorbed from simply being alive in this world flow out of me in one giant purge.
In the movie, whatever comes out of Scarecrow’s mask represents his enemy’s greatest fears. What if I were both Scarecrow and his victim? The person whose fears are made visible and the one that gets to release them all. What would I see? What would I turn loose from myself?
I do not believe I am holding on to some dark secret in my subconscious. I know I am dealing with the universal weight of carrying the insidious lies our culture infuses us with to keep us constantly striving and pliable. The types of lies that no amount of parental love can fully protect me from. The myth of perfection, the constant demand to be good, the loose sand of bullshit that serves as the foundation of every -ism. The impossible standards that keep me feeling like my body is never quite right. I want to release everything left unsaid due to a fear of confrontation and the belief that I must shrink my own needs, so as not to be a burden. I want to eliminate the false thoughts that make me question my own internal instincts, the interior manipulation that draws me towards desiring whatever the culture says is valuable.
I was only nineteen-years-old when I first had that yearning to release it all, but I would be in my early thirties when I first began, in earnest, to engage with these lies in a useful way. After a disastrous and stressful year of doing two full-time jobs for one measly salary, I landed in a Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction course. In the first few weeks, we learned about the thought distortions that fuel anxiety. The list itself felt like a description of my mind.
All-or-Nothing Thinking
Perfectionism
Control Fallacies
“What if” Thinking
There were nine distortions in all and I checked each box. I was instructed to sit in meditation and notice each thought that arose. Then I would write down the most prominent thought and ask myself if it was true. It was like being Marie Kondo for my own mind. One by one, I would hold my thoughts up to the light and ask, “does this bring me joy?”
At first it was easy to spot the falsehoods. No, believing that I am never quite enough does not, in fact, spark joy. My inner voice started to soften. I felt the sort of peaceful satisfaction you feel when you finally get to folding the pile of clean laundry that has been sitting on your “laundry chair” for a few too many days. That false belief that once you fold this pile, you’ll be more on top of it from now on.
While I do think I made some progress, it was also a bit of a facade. As it turns out, these thought distortions do not get unhooked so easily. When someone can profit from the fear and the worry, the messaging just takes a new shape. The harsh and direct criticism my mind once favored morphed, but did not vanish. Instead of condemnation, my inner critic took on the language of Wellness. It assured me I would be enough, as soon as I healed. I’d be worthy of love, as soon as I healed. I’d become clear about my purpose, as soon as I healed. I ran into an entire section of our culture that profits off having you believe that peace is just beyond your finger tips. I found myself in a quagmire of false gurus ready to provide the next 10 step plan, the next online course, the next morning routine that would change my life.
I’m not sure if it was having my own life blow up, being so far from the mile markers our culture insists you reach by 40, or because the lies being pushed by our culture’s leaders became so brazen and outrageous they shined a light on the absurdity of it all, but my desire to purge has taken on a renewed intensity. I now feel like I’m marching through the corridors of my mind manically holding a torch up to every belief I find. I want to know what is of me and what is not. I want to hold fire to the back of each thought and unlodge the lies like a tick. I want to evict all fear and all doubt. I want to reveal my true desires untarnished by the influences of others.
I know what I would see if I came face to face with Scarecrow because I’ve seen it in my dreams - wild beasts chasing me down. A giant hornet following me through a house, a lioness stalking me by a lake, a grizzly bear breathing down my neck - each animal representing the impending terror I feel about my own inevitable end. I am afraid of time and running out of it. What if I run out of time before I fully know myself or how I want to live? What if I will never gain that sense of self assurance I long for? What if l waste my whole life searching, trying to fix what was never broken, instead of reveling in the miracle that I get to be alive at all?
And then I take a breath and catch myself - “What if thinking.” Do those thoughts bring me joy? Is it true that the search is a waste? Just like the laundry, this sussing out of fear and falsehoods will be a lifelong project. But I know it is one well worth the effort.
“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.”
