Facing Dragons
“There were two kinds of monsters, the kind that hunted the streets and the kind that lived in your head. She could fight the first, but the second was more dangerous. It was always, always, always a step ahead.” (Victoria Schwab)
As a child, I was never afraid of monsters. I was afraid of other things, but never monsters. I was never under the impression that there was a boogey man lurking in the dark closer. I didn’t need my parents to get rid of creatures from underneath the bed.
I love fairy tales. I love reading of adventures of knights and princesses and sensible young ladies who faces dragons and jealous step-mothers and evil sorcerers. I still love fairy tales. I binge on fairy tale retellings every now and then. There’s a part of me that craves the adventure every now and then, only satisfied through books. (Because, you know, it’s difficult to find dragons to slay these days.) A quote commonly attributed to G.K. Chesterton says, “Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” I knew there was a good reason I like fairy tales.
Recently, as I was binging on Criminal Minds, I ran across this quote:
“One can argue that the sanitized version of today is counterproductive to the original purpose of fairy tales: so that children can safely confront their darkest fears.”
This past year, I feel like I have been confronting some of my biggest fears. And can I just say, it’s exhausting! I have finished yet another revolution around the sun and came out a lot more ragged than when I started.
What is your greatest fear?
I stumbled across my greatest fear when I was in high school. I pinpointed it and then lightly filed it somewhere deep in my subconscious. Only recently have I unearthed it and revisited it. The events of this past year have coaxed the buried file to resurface.
Is it weird that the last paragraph was a sad attempt at stalling from having to talk about my greatest fear?
My greatest fear is to be forgotten. I never really explored the idea until I did a bit of reflecting lately and put two and two together. I once saw this TV miniseries called Merlin, starring Miranda Richardson, Isabella Rossellini, and Martin Short. Old movie, produced in 1998. There was a scene in how the villain, Queen Mab, was defeated. They didn’t defeat her through wit or power; they forgot her. If you’d like to see the scene, check it out here. (Don’t worry. It’s only about a minute long.)
Every Christmas Eve, I watch “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Yes, I’m one of those people. After the aforementioned reflection time, I realized that that part of my fear is that, like George Bailey, when I’m faced with what the world looks like without me - I make no difference. Not in accomplishments, not in people’s lives.
To be forgotten and to not have left any mark. Those two make up my greatest fear.
This year, I had to brush off my sword and shield and face my fears head-on. Because when we want to go on an epic adventure, we’d need to be prepared to vanquish a few dragons. The pandemic has been so difficult for me. (I’m not saying that it’s not difficult for other people, I’m just telling things from my point of view.) I love connecting with people, but it felt like - struggling with anxiety - that I’m trying to come to terms with object permanence all over again. Just because loved ones aren’t physically present, doesn’t mean they stopped loving me. That sentence is easier typed than believed. I had to condition my mind to fight the anxiety that threatens to take over.
About six months ago, I ventured out from a place I have called home for fifteen years and started a new thing with a bunch of amazing people. I left a position that I have loved working at for the last six years. I had to let go. Let me tell you, that’s not easy. Especially with the existence of social media. To see the people I call family very very rarely, that’s not easy. To see the ministry move on without me, that’s not easy. And the fear is there. That I’m forgotten. That it’s as if I never existed. I know that’s not true, but the battle’s in my mind. It’s not about my old job, my old church, my old ministry. It’s about the fears camping in my mind. The monsters lurking in the crevices of my mind.
I realize that reality doesn’t work like fairy tales. In fairy tales, monsters are slain and they stay dead. In reality, some of our monsters come back to life. Daily. Today’s victory might not last a day. That sounds so depressing, I know. Take heart, friends. With every victory, the battles get easier. Our sword arms have developed the muscle memory to slay dragon after dragon after dragon.
It’s exhausting.
I feel ragged.
Somehow, though, I also feel like after a long and hard fight. Accomplished. I can’t really describe it. It’s been a long year, and I don’t know what this next year is going to be like. But whatever is in my future, I have my sword and my shield and an adventurous spirit. There are more monsters to be slain. New lands to visit.
Here’s to 33 and whatever might come my way. Whether it be dragons or princes, new kingdoms or witches, stableboys or magic spells, I will face them with a lot of heart and a weird sense of humor.