Part One–We Are All Scared
When I involuntarily lost my job for the first time ever, I expressed concerns to a friend that it had been two weeks, and I was worried because I still hadn’t found a job. I wasn’t sleeping very much. I would wake in the early hours of the morning, gasping for air. During the afternoons, the nausea was so bad I would dry-retch. Did I have an incurable illness, yet to be discovered? No. I had fear, and lots of it. Modern day psychiatry calls it something else, but it’s completely wrong.
When I said to my friend, ‘If I don’t get a job soon, the little money we have put away will be gone and we wont be able to pay rent, then we won’t even be able to eat,’ He was silent for a moment.
I had a two-year old son to care for and a wife who was studying, I had to support them financially.
‘What happens next? How long can we last before something really bad happens?’
In a calm and almost detached way, he glanced over.
‘Starvation is relatively painless…’
I brushed off his comment like it was, at best, completely irrational, at worst, insulting and unhelpful. What I failed to understand at the time, was that he was serious. He was a Doctor.
I moped around the house for weeks, utterly depressed. The pressure of modern societal demands found their way into the house through the gaps in the windows and under the doors like poisonous gas. The self-doubt increased:
‘You lost your job. You can’t find another one. You failed at providing for your family. Therefore, you are worthless man. What will your son think of you?’
The truth is, I was never fired. The company deemed a particular position untenable and thirty people were let go on the same day, myself among them.
The truth is, I had several job offers in the two weeks after I lost my job, all of which I turned down. All of which would have been adequate jobs to pay the bills and get the family back on its feet. But deep down, those weren’t the jobs I wanted. I was actually being picky, because I knew deep down, beneath the fear, that we would actually be OK. We would survive.
The truth is, my family was never even knocked over.
In my head, my family was living on the street, I was covered only with a pair of black ragged pants, my wife sat in a melancholic trance against a bus-stop in the city, and my son was reminiscent of a starving child from National Geographic, looking at me with a bloated belly and tear filled eyes, ‘Daddy, you failed us.’ After that, bystanders would spit on me, and eventually, I would have to kill myself out of shame. Too dramatic? Not really. Quite normal, if you live in a fear based reality. If your one of these people, you know what I am talking about.
I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened
It is my opinion that every mental disorder as classed in the modern-day psychiatric bible, the DSM-5, is rooted firmly, and derived from an extreme, indefatigable, seemingly unexplained, irrational, Fear.
Fear of what?
Everyone is different, but ultimately, it can be reduced to one simple, undeniable truth.
When people are sent to prison for long periods of time, it is an indisputable fact that many of them will find God, at some point or another. God, and belief in a greater being or creator, somehow makes peace with a certain fear that manifests itself in so many ways. They simply move from a position of fearing, to not fearing, death.
But don’t take my word as truth. Find out for yourself, what you are afraid of?
Is it a fear of people not liking you? Or is it a belief that if people don’t like you, it will take away from your sense of self-worth? You will be an outcast? What usually happens to outcasts in nature? You guessed it.
The writer of this series is a man who has died a thousand different times in a thousand different ways. None of which have happened yet.
Part Two will continue this discussion.