ESSAYS
Competing InterestsAUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND 09 February 2010 |
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On the outside, I am pleasant. I have a calm face. I'm usually smiling.
But there are darker things inside me.
The first is a snaking ribbon of fury. It twists down through my chest and wraps its whip-like self around all the shadowy parts that are hidden, the parts of me I've only ever caught a sneaking glimpse of.
The second, is fear. It lies curled in the pit of my belly until it rises like thick bile, and traps itself in my throat. Sometimes I don't have the strength to swallow it down or spit it out.
Fury snaps and bites when prodded and always takes me by surprise. It speaks words as sharp as tacks and it curls my lip into a sneer. I can see that fury makes me ugly. It hollows out my cheeks and pulls down my mouth. It makes me sallow and sullen and makes my breath taste like sour milk.
Fear is no newcomer. It has always been there. Sometimes it's been captured in a photograph, when the smile falls momentarily and is replaced by a look in my eye that feels like an ache. There is a portrait of me at age eight where my face is a puzzle, a challenge. Visitors say it is beautiful. I say it is haunted.
Fury and fear fight inside me. Fury wants a voice. Fear wants silence.
Fear makes me secretive. It is a failing of mine. I am told too often that I do not share enough of myself. I am told this as if it is my duty to talk. I cannot talk, my tongue will not speak. It will not speak for me, lest it say too much.
So it is my fingers that talk for me. They seemingly move of their own accord across the keys, as my jaw clenches and my heart pounds. My fingers do not take direction from fear, they are controlled by fury. It snakes through my thin veins and moves them with invisible strings.
My body feels like a battleground some days.
So far, fear has won most of the matches. It's had fury by the throat for years now. Kept it on the ropes, kept it down for the count. But it's losing ground. Fear knows the game is nearly up and it is making a last ditch effort to retain the belt.
Fear thinks that fury is weak. But I know fury has gained strength while it's been sleeping. I feel it rising like a tide, seeping in and out, waxing and waning with the moon, as its deep swell surges forth. I think fury has simply been biding its time.
I don't know that I like fury. I'm not sure I can resist its force, nor am I confident that I can control it. Fear I have always managed to keep on a leash. Or maybe it's kept a leash on me. I'm comfortable with fear, we've known each other for a long time. But fury is a strange houseguest, one who turns up at inopportune times and always manages to break something and leave a mess for me to clean up.
But while fury is noisy and destructive, I know that fear, for all its supposed concern for my wellbeing, is doing me the most harm.
That while fear whispers into my ear that I have been misused, mishandled and misled, I know this is to make me give in, make me give myself over to fear completely. I also know I must not let fear defeat me. Somedays though, it's all I can do to stand still and be present.
Be still, I say to myself. Be. Here. Now.
I cannot do anything but be. here. now. because while fear saps the future, sucks the marrow out of tomorrow, fury feeds on the past, distills poison from memory. These competing interests make me a prisoner of today.
These unwelcome twins have kept me in check for so long, my life feels like one big chessboard. But it has given me time to think about my moves. Fury and fear, while different creatures, are basically the same. They are stubborn and blind and vain. They only have eyes for each other. They do not realise there's something else that is threatening their survival.
It's not as cunning as fear, nor as frightening as fury, but I think it may be even more formidable.
It's been tucked up at the base of my spine, growing alongside my backbone. It's velvety soft but has a core of steel. It doesn't fray like fury's ribbon, nor is it mutable like whispery fear.
With every tear, every gasp and every heartbreak it has knitted itself strong. It is the strap on which the razor sharpens itself. It is the cloth which wipes away the stain.
Fear and fury, do not yet realise there is something else patiently considering its moves. Fear and fury do not yet know its name.
But I do.
It is fortitude.
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“Fear thinks that fury is weak.” Such an interesting idea. Lazy thinking would suggest otherwise, that fury finds fear weak. But you, of course, are smarter than that.
Hey Marni,
It’s interesting isn’t it? I always see fury as being the weaker because it feels out of control. I guess I equate loss of control with weakness. I guess I also think that fear is so powerful and strong that it automatically trumps any other emotion… At least, that’s how it has felt to me.
Thanks for pointing that out! You’re a gem.
You gladden my heart, wise daughter of mine. I began smiling as the last few paragraphs unwound to their conclusion…
Your gift for describing pure emotion and feeling is unparalleled.
Kia kaha!
As always, thanks Mama.
Aroha to you.
xx
Brew, not to make light of it, but you forgot ‘fucking awesome’.
It’s strange, the way different emotions can leech off each other and set each other off. They course through us and turn us into people that we didn’t know we were.
It’s no fun being a prisoner. Here’s to fortitude.
Kia kaha indeed.
Ha! I like your style, Brew. Fucking awesome indeed!
And you are so right - It’s no fun being a prisoner at all and it’s especially no fun when you realise it’s your own self holding you hostage.
We must break those chains!
Onwards and upwards, brew!
Wow, you made me think of Robert Mitchum in “Night of the Hunter” where he plays the killer preacher. There’s a scene where he has LOVE written on his right hand knuckles and HATE on the left. He demonstrates a great wrestling match with his hands to symbolize our battles with these dualities. And of course LOVE wins! Though yes, we knew in real life such is not always the case…
It looks like you are taking the Whitman approach and embracing your conflicts. Good work. What is life without struggle anyhoo. Right?
David,
You have given me the biggest smile with your Robert Mitchum reference!! It makes me want to go and tattoo my knuckles.
Yes, it feels like I have been embracing the inner conflicts for some time now. I just hope it’s all leading me to somewhere good! I don’t mind struggle, but I do love a good reward!
Thanks for your wonderful comment, David.
Unflinching, honest piece. Being able to name the “demons” is part of what gives you the power to find a way out of their control. Not like that’s easy. Ever. I know.
Harvest the gold, Zara. It’s in there with the darkness, like a forgotten hoard of treasure.
Thanks Ronlyn.
I love that quote you used the other day about the gold being in the shadow…
I think we all too often try and quiet our emotions and control them and pretend they don’t exist because sometimes they seem too powerful to harness.
But writing this, made me realise just how damaging fear is. I feel that I have lived my life so far, worrying about so many things, and it’s just so limiting and exhausting.
But, boy - It’s hard to get rid of, even when you know it’s bad for you!
About two months ago, I finally became angry enough about a long series of events, that I folded my hands in my lap during a meeting with my boss and said, “I guess you think that since I come to work every day wearing a nice outfit and a pretty smile that you don’t have to listen to me? Well, I came back from last weekend not being that lady anymore.”
Properly tamed, fear and fury can get you where you need to go, while that pretty smile will just get you swept aside. Sometimes. Other times, that pair of F’s will get snarled around your ankles and take you down like a sack of stones, while the nice smile will launch you sailing across a room.
Like GI Joe said, “knowing is half the battle,” haha. You know where the fear hangs out; you know where the fury skulks. Now, you can make them work for you. Boss ‘em around, like you’re…the boss.
Jinkers! I bet your boss moved his chair back an inch or two from you when you said that!! Did he look worried? That’s a great line, Amanda. Brilliant!
Yep, you’re right. Knowing what battles to fight is key, but the hardest thing is battling with yourself. Seriously, sometimes I feel like I’m a WWF match with myself.
I need a scary wrestler name…
Your wrestler name could be The Pott Shot. heh…
Haaaaaaaah!
That is fantastically awful!
“Introduuuuuuuucing the Pott Shotttttttttttttt…”
Now I need a costume.
When selecting your costume, be sure it boasts a prissy outer layer, with break-away panels (like disco pants), so you can zip that prissy stuff off in a flash, using the element of surprise to catch your opponent with guard down. Underneath, of course, is some bossy-boots bad-ass outfit for laying waste to all comers.
“Whuuuuuaaaaat? You mean you’re not just a lady with a nice smile? And, I have to listen up? Plus, you’re here to rearrange my face? Daaaaaang!”
(in case you’re wondering, in addition to dreaming up imaginary wrestling persona, I am excellent at inventing imaginary porn stars AND superheroes…in case, you know, you ever need one of those too)
I was thinking of some rip away MC Hammer pants maybe?
I’m going to work on my bossy boots bad ass wrestling costume right now.
It’s very handy to know about your talent for porn stars/superheroes.. That will definitely come in handy.
You know that game where you take your pet’s name and the street you live on and that’s your pornstar name? I had two good ones.
One was ‘Uranus Head.’ and the other was ‘Lola Rockinghorse.’
Damn those names are so waiting for glory.
Ha ha ha! ‘Uranus Head’ and ‘Lola Rockinghorse’ are flipping fantastic!
Mine were ‘Chi-Chi Horn’ and ‘Tobey Alabaster’.
I sometimes play a joke on my sister and best friend when they call me. I answer my phone like this:
“Harry’s House of Hairy Whores. Harry speaking, how may I help you?”
I think we should create a whore house so we can pimp out Fear and Fury. But we should come up with appropriate pornstar names for them, don’t you think?
That formula *is* pretty rock-solid, isn’t it? I get “Cinnamon Manning” and “Birdie Allendale”.
Too many of my pets have been female, but I do end up with “Mojo Mississippi.” That’s not bad.
Oh, all of those are porntastic!
Ah, what a grand and glorious note to end on, Fortitude. Well, actually, this whole piece was grand and glorious. Rise, Zara. Rise.
Thanks Rich.
I’m sitting up a little straighter this morning…
x
If I may be so bold to introduce yet another “F” into the equation, it is this: Forgiveness. My fear, great as it was, was overwhelmed by my fury in a veritable blitzkrieg when I was only a teenager. I gave myself over to it utterly and it didn’t weaken the onslaught until my early twenties. Even then, I needed its motive force so I negotiated a settlement in which we sort of timeshared my soul until a phased withdrawal could be completed. But such negotiations could not begin until I forgave myself for both “F”s, accepted them as part of me and asked, “Okay. So now what?”
I don’t know the backstory here so I may be completely out of line. If so, my apologies. Beautifully written, Zara.
I love that you negotiated a peace treaty on your soul, Anon. Great image.
It’s interesting that you mentioned forgiveness. I assumed when I first read your comment that you meant forgiveness for others but on re-reading it, I see you mean forgiving yourself.
Isn’t it funny that forgiving yourself for being human and having human emotion and reactions, can sometimes be harder than forgiving others who have done you wrong? I guess it’s true that we are hardest on ourselves, but then I guess that’s good, because it hopefully shapes us into better, kinder more honest people.
Thank you, as always, for your lovely and thoughful comments. It’s always a pleasure to see you here on the boards!
The pleasure is entirely mine, Madam. And, frankly, I don’t give a tinker’s damn about forgiving others - you can never be entirely certain of the depth of their crimes, so how could you accurately know what and whether to forgive? But we can know and accept ourselves, warts and all, if we’re strong enough. And I have no doubt that you are.
Yeah, sometimes I think forgiving others is overrated. Some things are just not forgivable.
But we should be easier on ourselves, I think. We all have a tendency for self-blame even when we are completely innocent.
Thank you for your encouraging words. You really are a treasure.
Shucks, ma’am. Now I’m embarrassed and need to go mutter self-deprecating things to myself.
Don’t! Or I’ll send you an apology letter!!
Ack!! {backs away slowly}
As long as it’s not a haka troupe. Or a death worm.
Ha! The death worm.
I promise I won’t send one of those.
Let us not forget flatulence!
Ha. Ha. Admin!
Nice profile pic by the way. Has your hair got longer?
I love love love the way you write. You spill blood when you write.
Thank goodness for the courage of your fingers.
Oh Ducky, thank you. That’s so kind of you and it means so much to me to hear that.
I find writing such a strange process. I really feel like sometimes I have no control about what comes out. I certainly can’t articulate my feelings verbally and I really struggle with identifying my feelings when I’m in coversation. And yet, if I start writing -there it is. Strange.
I have had a lot of people who have known me for a long time comment on my writing and tell me that they had no idea I felt this way or that way and that they are surprised that I feel these things. I guess because my normal answer when people ask me how I am is: ‘Fine.’ and I don’t tend to elaborate. Ah. Sorry about the long reply. I think I’m still trying to figure myself out. God, this could take years!!!!
My dearest Zara,
Writing is a divine sport, if there is anything scared. I liken writers to the Pythia. We are the instrument, a jumper cable to some other energy. I won’t presume to name it. When we are at our best is when there is no consciousness. No ego. That is why you can’t articulate it in person. To do so is to disconnect from it.
But what’s to figure out? We are carbon and water and dirty thoughts. Better not to ask. Better to accept and be. The rest is useless ego.
I have thought all day about this: “Fear makes me secretive.” Oh, the way that ribbon coils. Better not to ask. Better to accept and be. I remind myself as well as you.
It’s funny isn’t it?
If asked to speak my feelings out loud, i wouldn’t be able to find the words.
And yes, that ribbon coils in all sorts of places. I’m only dimly aware of it myself. Thank you for your words, Ducky. They are a gift and so are you.
Fear and fury were the two horses driving my chariot for far, far too long, and often in different directions. The fear came first, lashed to the harness and set running by people too timid to face up to their own demons, who found it easier to torment a child.
The fury, though, that’s mine. And I have to admit, when it’s properly reigned in, can be oh so useful. But terrifyingly seductive.
I do think fear is the worse of the two. It’s funny, but I find fear the most seductive. It gets in your ear and whispers all the worst possible scenarios and all the terrible things that are going to happen and when it’s finished with you, you’re crippled.
Fury on the other hand is so quick and expressive that it makes me feel so strong and powerful when it kicks in. I guess the key is acknowledging them but not letting them control you, which of course, is a lot easier said than done. Oh, why can’t I be completely self aware and zen? Why? Grr.
when you are
pulled apart by
horses
fight
girl
fight
may faith
trump fear
&
turn fury
into fortitude
You say the most perfect words.
You always do.
I read your words, 11, and realise that I’m already halfway there.
You fortify me.
Like
Frosted
Flakes
Zara, your writing never seizes to amaze me. I have goosebumps from reading your beautiful words.
My favourite line is:
“Fury and fear fight inside me. Fury wants a voice. Fear wants silence.”
The alliteration lends it a certain je ne sais quoi. Fear and Fury, my dear, dwell in all of us. Some more than others. It’s an ulgy trait that we possess but they say that ‘the sweet is not as sweet without the sour.’
“Patience and Fortitude conquer all things.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Dearest Simone,
Thank you for your lovely comment. You always find these fantastic quotes. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you reading?
As for patience - Yikes. I’m the most impatient person ever. There’s another thing to work on I guess…argh!!!
It’s my pleasure. And it’s a pleasure reading your posts, I look forward to reading them everytime.
I’m a bit of a quote freak, I’ve been collecting them since I was in high school. I’d call it a habit bordering a fetish, that’s if collecting quotes can be categorised as a fetish.
Patience is not one of my virtues either, but you know what, I think we’ll get through it. I’m not sure if you’re an Eagles fan? I’m listening to them right now, and ‘Learn to be Still’ is playing. SSE?
I guess that maybe it’s a message for us, we can learn to be patient.
They say patience is the greatest virtue… Hmmm. I’m not sure about that one!!!
Beautiful writing as always. It must be tough to allow us a peek into your inner self. I tend to think of fury as fear that’s been backed into a corner. Like an angry cat. But that’s probably too simplistic.
Actually, no, I think the entire world can be rendered as a lifeline, with Fear on one end of the spectrum and Love on the other.
Consider this character dilemma and place an X on the appropriate place of the lifeline:
“Ling Ling finds a wallet on the ground filled with money. She takes the wallet to the address on the driver’s license but keeps the money inside the wallet.”
Fear or Love?? Hahaha.
Richrob,
Thank you for your lovely words. You know, it’s actually not too difficult to write about my inner self, but as I’ve mentioned above, if you asked me to verbalise it - I’d run away stammering.
Love your lifeline rendering. I hope I’m moving closer to love.
You’re totally welcome. You always manage to reveal inner bits of yourself that most of us seem to purposely wall off.
The lifeline thing is a joke from the film Donnie Darko. Check it out if you haven’t seen it. There is a whole self-help video subplot about being a “Fear survivor.” Patrick Swayze plays the cheeseball therapist guy. Ha.
I have seen that movie! I obviously wasn’t paying attention!
But isn’t that actually true that fear and love are the opposite ends of the spectrum? It makes sense to me.
I don’t want to detract from a beautiful, beautiful piece, Zara, but when I read this sentence…
“It is the strap on which the razor sharpens itself.”
… I had to re-read it a few times to realize that you weren’t saying “strap-on”. I have a filthy, broken mind I’m afraid. With that said, what a pleasure to read. To Fortitude…
You just made me spit out my pink vitamin water, Slade. I can’t tell you how much I am laughing right now. I will not be able to read that sentence properly ever again. Oh, too funny! Thank you for the best laugh I’ve had for several days.
To Fortitude…and To Funny!
Cheers!
You’re quite welcome, haha. My mind just processed it independently of how it was written, and I won’t even touch on how I tried to make the razor work in the equation. I’m happy a laugh came from such an egregious misinterpretation.
I owe you a Vitamin Water.
I just went back and re-read the last bit, and sure enough - I’m now reading it as ’strap on.’ Oops, there goes the vitamin water again. You owe me two…
Jesus, Zara,
I spend the morning playing with kids in the hospital.
I spend the afternoon running errands & then I pack for me & Victor
for out buttcrack flight out in the morning to colder-than-usual Houston. Then
there was dinner and then I get to the computer and THIS is
up. I need time to process this. I will probably be #238, but I can’t
just comment without reading it over & over & thinking.
I’ll be back.
I’ll be waiting…
I love that you chose the word “fury.” A lovely, allusive, and underutilized word, that.
Another f-word: friendship.
: )
Thanks Greg. Friendship may be the best F word there is.
And I am so grateful for yours. Thank you.
Nice piece. I can relate. I’ve always had a destructive side, from smashing my skateboarding trophies to using rubber cement to burn all my model WWII tanks, to…oh wait, I just realized this would take hours. Days, more like it. More. Actually, I wrote a book about it so I better shut up. Haha.
Ha! I’m going to Amazon to pre-order right now. Can’t wait to read it, Tom. I hope there is a whole chapter devoted to the skateboard trophy smashfest…
Ah, Zara, I was cheering out loud for you by time time I got to the end
You go, girl! You know the saying “things that don’t kill you just make you stronger?” Sometimes I think I’d rather be weaker and more naive… but after reading your piece, I see the strength and wisdom that you have after all that you’ve been through this past year. And I admire you so much for it. Bon courage, mon amie 
I can’t tell you how much your comments mean to me, Margot. And a big part of finding strength and fortitude in the shitty past couple of years has come from the encouraging comments I have had here on TNB - of which you have been a large and important part. I want to thank you so much for reading and leaving your words for me. You really have helped me.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
It’s like you’re living in my head Zara. Thanks for putting words to what swirls within me.
And how it swirls! I know that feeling. It’s like a whirlpool somedays, huh? Thank you for reading Alison. I’m so glad you are here.
Before
you can rid yourself of the fear
you have to identify
exactly
the source of the fury
You have to find the basis for the fury
You have to pinpoint the origin of it’s birth
Then
you have to come to terms
you have to make a truce
make sense of it
any way you have to
free it from your body
free it from your mind
or
if you can’t
confine it
to a little spot in your body
imprison it so it can’t get out
but
you can visit it when you want
then
the fear can be slowly released
like steam
until most of it is gone
not all
but most
then
the strength
the fortitude will nurse from your backbone
it will suckle on your spinal cord
it will grow stronger
and stronger
until it is the size you need
to survive
to overcome
to prevail
triumph
Yes.
I know the source of the fury very well.
It began as a demon seed that sprouted great branches of fear.
I have lived with it a long time.
I have yet to make my peace with it.
I try to confine it.
I try to ignore it.
But it’s there. It’s always on my shoulder.
I just want it gone.
I want to be free of fear.
Fury, can stay. I don’t mind her.
Thank you, Irene.
Thank you for seeing this and offering me these words.
It might just be the start of the spell I need.
xxx
You know (and I hesitate to write this in haste lest it be misconstrued) we never feel anything we don’t need to. Our emotions are not inflicted upon us, they are generated from within us. If you are done with fear, it is less a matter of kicking it out against its will than it is allowing it to leave. But I’ve found that releasing your fear means you have to also let go of whatever positive thing to which you have attached it - fear of losing a loved one means remembering the love, fear of failing means remembering the feeling of possibility in the attempt. Until we are willing to release - and possibly lose - the attachment or illusion we cherish, we cannot allow the fear to escape with it. Maybe it’s time to allow the fear to plead its case for release and see why you’re holding it captive…?
That’s an interesting argument, Anon. I agree with you on some fronts - that a lot of fear is generated through fear of losing something that we hold important. In those cases, I think we can, as you say, allow it to release itself once we acknowledge what the actual fear is that we are holding on to.
But I do think that fear can be inflicted upon us. I think we can learn to fear things very easily. Children are particularly susceptible to this and I think especially where there has been trauma, fear is a natural companion to that. That kind of fear has no positives attached to it, and I think for a lot of people it can take a long time to work out that the fear they live with on an every day basis isn’t actually theirs, and has been given to them like some unwelcome gift. The problem with that, of course, is that simply recognising that truth, doesn’t automatically change a lifetime worth of practise and even when you know the fear is without basis or isn’t even yours, it is tremendously hard to get rid of.
Oh dear. If only there were a magic tablet…!
Oof, this is a weighty topic. Speaking only of my personal experience, I was exactly that child - combinations of abandonment, abuse, violence, betrayal. And it did take one hell of an effort that began with an acceptance that I did not ask for this but that is precisely how I came about my way of seeing it. The traumas were foisted upon me but my processing of it, my acceptance of it, my willingness to sustain that fear - those were all mine. It took nearly dying to make me see it. If I was willing to throw away my very life, why could I not be as willing and able to throw away that feeling?
When you can’t keep something out, let it in. That’s when the negotiations to which I alluded earlier can start. I wouldn’t suggest that what worked for me would work for anyone else but I offer the observation in the spirit of helping.
Oof, indeed! And doesn’t it feel like a sock to the guts?
Yes, I agree. I think that we do need to take responsibility for allowing the emotions to control our actions, even if they were given to us unreasonably and we accepted them unwillingly.
I am sorry to know that you have had to deal with these traumas. It takes a long time to process and the fear is so welded to the experiences that it isn’t easy to unstick it. It sounds to me that you have managed to do that admirably and I applaud you for your bravery and strength, Anon. It’s not easy.
I once heard a Buddhist (I think) saying that went something like: Can you change it? No? Then why worry? Can you change it? Yes? Then why worry?
It resonated with me and I like it in theory, but it’s another thing trying to override my natural anxiety/worry/fear and apply it to myself. But I will try! Yes, I will!!!
Wellll…. truth be told, releasing that fear allowed that whole fury thing to get let off the leash and I sort became a not-so-nice person for awhile in my life. But negotiations went well and a permanent cease-fire has been achieved. I’m much better now. Mostly. Like 99.5% of the time. It varies by caffeine content and sleep deprivation.
I’m very glad to hear that! 99.5% is a pretty good average.
I try not to let fury off its leash. You know what happens then - People end up being chased up telephone poles.
Now, where are my cigarettes….?
Sorry for the lag - my daughter (the biggest reason for that 99.5% average) had a nightmare that apparently only Daddy could dispel and then I had a thirst that only the single-malt beside me could slake. Cigarettes, eh? Well, if I can send Erika Rae virtual vino I can certainly afford to send you cyber stogies. Quite the patron of the arts, I am!
You are a treasure, Anon. Fighting off nightmares, sending virtual nicotine.. Is there anything you can’t do??!
Ummm… yeah. Lots. Ride a bike. Speak tonal languages without accidentally ordering “nine dog moon poop”. Go a full week without annoying and/or frightening coworkers. Go three waking hours without using some variant of “fuck”.
Yeah. Lots.
Nice one! I particularly like your creativity when it comes to saying ‘fuck.’ It’s such a great word. Bravo, Anon. I think you’re brilliant.
Grazie, Zara. You are far too kind. Now if only I had a name….
How about Felix?
Ha! Okay, all due respect to the Felixes of the world buuuuut…. I’m going by Andrew in certain circles these days. Perhaps we can stick with that. Of course, I defer to your wisdom and fear your apology letters so I’ll leave that entirely up to you.
Oh Andrew is a very nice name. I like it better than Felix.
Andrew it is.
Zara, I always say this to you, but you’re such a love, a bright shining star with the depth of a gazillion light years. When I finish reading your pieces my heart is always filled with hope and I breath easier.
Thanks for writing, Love.
Oh Megan.
You are a treasure. Next time I look up at the stars in my Southern sky, I’m going to send a wish and a kiss to you.
xx
I’m a late comer here
(been on a TNB fast as of late…)
HOWEVER, I must acknowledge with gratitude and appreciation, the depth at which
you share the most raw parts of yourself. Maybe I come to this site
again and again because I wish to connect to the people I dig - and you are one of those peeps,
dear Zara!
I agree with you about “fear doing the most harm” - I feel same - fear for me
is the immobilizer, whereas fury at least gets me going. I get afraid alot - I hate it.
I need my fury to knock fear out and that takes fortitude and maybe a few other f’s.
xxoo love to you, triple F et al
You can be as late as you like, I just love to see you here!
Thanks darling Steph. You always say just the right things, the things that help make the fears go away.
I too, wish there was a magic pill to knock fear out. It does immobilise. It stops us from doing the things we should. It tells us lies and drains the future. Fear is a big sack of shit.
Yeah, fury isn’t so bad. We should all embrace it a little more. In a positive way of course!!
A tonne of love back to you my fucking fantastic faraway friend.
omg - quadruple fs!!
And I just snort laughed at “fear is a big sack of shit” - I love that.
I want to put it on a t-shirt!
FEAR IS A BIG SACK OF SHIT!
oh, laughing.
I’ll have to remember that tomorrow as I to do something
I’m really scared to do - ahhhhhhhhhhhh - it’ll be ok.
FFFFF!
Yeah! Fuck fear! That big sack of shit!!
XXX To my FEARLESS fucking fantastic faraway fabulous friend.
Hi Zara, the writer who, when it comes to emotional honesty on TNB, is fearless (and I was going to say peerless, to rhyme, but we do have a few other mighty ones of your ilk, so I’ll suffice it to say you are in good and humbling, elite company.)
I can very much relate to being the girl who usually has a smile on her face, with hidden, darker battles raging inside. I spent most of my life in that place, a good 3 decades, and though for the most part these past 10 years have been different from that lifelong routine there have still been periods, very terrifying and out of control ones, where those old demons rear their heads, and there seems such a schism between who I feel inside and what I know my face and words are saying outside.
I admire the way you’re able to throw off all such dichotomies in your writing, and your willingness to be naked and sit with your emotions, and put them out for us to study and recognize and learn from. I appreciate this so much in your work. You cut close to the bone, and I know a writer can’t do that without shedding some blood, so thank you.
God, Gina. You are such a gem.
I feel so humbled by your words, especially because I see you as someone incredibly brave and strong and matchless.
It is so good to realise by your words, and others written above, that I am not alone in my thinking. I think it is all too easy to believe we are the only ones who feel such schisms and it can be lonely and scary until you realise you are not alone at all and many, many other people share the same fears.
It’s funny, because you are right - it does cut close to the bone, but I always feel amazingly healed after I have stripped myself bare and let the outside in. It seems that a little bit of light isolates the fracture and knits it together and helps to erase the scars.
Thank you a million times over for your words.
Zara– I know I have said this to you before– but your words are achingly beautiful.. just really, achingly raw, honest and beautiful. And clean. So clean and spare they shine…
~ robin
Aww. Bless you Robin! It’s so humbling for me to hear such lovely things from you.
You are wonderful. Thank you.
Maybe you can lend me some of that final “f” word, huh? I seem to be running short.
What’s mine is yours, D. I’ll send you some by express thought courier.
Along with some meat pies, I hope. But no Avondales!
How about a huntsman?
Would you, please? I think I could do with a nice heart attack.
Never anything to give you a heart attack, D.
No spiders. Ever!
Well, I may not have any choice in the matter. I mean, one day — who knows? — I could be in a Melbourne store and a huntsman could fall from the ceiling and land right in front of me. It’s been known to happen.
It’s OK. Huntsmen aren’t particularly venomous (although they do like to give you a shock). However, watch out for redbacks. And whitetails. And funnel-webs. And Black House Spiders. And mouse spiders. And wolf spiders. And trapdoor spiders.
Ack! Ack! Ack!
Oh and Jinkers too.
Do you think huntsmen have a good sense of humor? Sounds like they do, being practical jokers and all.
No. I don’t think spiders have any sense of humour. They don’t even have faces, the hellish little creeps.
They do have faces - evil little faces with big fangs.
An awesome and acutely accurate piece Zara. Beautifully articulated. What an unexpectedly wonderful experience to stumble across and read this-thank you.
Great that you have the talent to describe, and the generosity to share it with all who seek.
Thanks, on more levels than You know, but all grateful.
Dear Anonymous,
Your comment was just what I needed right now - thank you so much.
I am so grateful you stumbled across this, and even more grateful for your very kind and much needed words.
Zara
From the wonderous prose, insight, and description You have offered, I’m astounded my mere acknowledgement can be just what You could need, but “competing interests” has enhanced my (not unpleasant) day, and the unanticipated glimpse to the otherwise personal but not altogether unfamiliar world is such a gift-if appreciative acknowledgement of Your talent, generosity, and bravery to describe is, as You say “just what You need”, then take as much of it as You desire. I look forward with anticipation to reading the remainder of your posted work. Thank You Zara.