Don’t hide your fear

It was late afternoon. I was walking my dog, Maggie, through the back

streets of Corona del Mar on my way to Cafe Gelato Classico for a

coppa mista in a waffle cone. My favorite!

Silhouetted against the setting sun were two figures on

skateboards. I watched them as I walked. They zipped down the alley

between homes and flew out into the street. I noticed that one boy

was a lot taller than the other.

Then the smaller boy came zooming out of the alley and went flying

through the air. He landed, splat -- body plant on the pavement. I

held my breath, but he got up, moving very slowly, looked around for

a minute, and then hopped right back on his board.

Man, I thought to myself, I’d have been smashed into a million

pieces, and the last thing I’d have done would have been get back on

that board right away. Ah, to be young!

The boys collected their boards and began to walk toward me.

I heard the little one say, “I’m not afraid to fall.”

“I am,” said the tall one, who I could now see was several years

older.

“Nope. Not me,” said the little guy, with tons of bravado.

A very short exchange, but it got me thinking.

How often do we not admit to others that we’re afraid? And how

often do we not admit it to ourselves?

It happens a lot of the time, I think.

Many of us cover-up being afraid by being angry.

We may not even know that we’re feeling something other than

anger.

So what could that something be? I think it’s fear, sadness or

hurt.

Sadness and fear are primary emotions. We feel them for but a

nanosecond before anger, a secondary emotion, kicks in. It can happen

so fast that we’re not even aware that we felt anything other than

angry.

And why is this true for so many people?

I think it’s because, in this culture, the expression of anger is

seen as powerful, while feeling sad and afraid is seen as weak.

Heaven forbid you should cry!

And it’s no wonder this is so. Just think about the language we

use. When we’re mad, we say, basically, “You did X. You need to stop

it.” This is blame, pure and simple. It’s a way of getting the

attention off of you and putting it on the other person. Whatever

happened was his or her fault.

Contrast that with what we say when we’re sad or afraid. We say

“I.” We talk about ourselves rather than the other person. This makes

us far more vulnerable.

Years and years ago, I had a falling out with a good friend.

Initially I was sad, and I tried hard to make amends. When it became

clear that the friendship couldn’t recover, I became furious with her

as a way to cover my pain and not feel how profoundly sad I was.

Here’s the thing: As long as you stay in the anger, nothing can be

resolved. That’s because each person blames the other, and that’s a

dead end.

The only way that conflict will soften is if each person shows up

with an open heart and digs deep enough to look at what his or her

part in it is and takes responsibility for that. And you can only do

that if you’re looking at yourself.

So it seems we’re far afield from our little skateboarders, but

maybe not so far after all. Because the kid who fell was trying to be

big and tough, so that he could measure up to his older friend.

That’s how you’re taught you should be if you’re a young male in this

culture.

Too often, we carry this into adulthood and think that’s the way

we should continue to be.

And it’s not only grown men -- it’s women too. We try to be strong

and act powerful when what we’re actually feeling is soft and

vulnerable. And then, of course, there is no coming together. We

destroy any chance of getting tender loving care because we don’t

show we need or want it.

Too scary.

Too real.

Too raw.

Makes me too mad? Nah, it’s too sad.

* MAXINE COHEN is a Corona del Mar resident and a marriage and

family therapist practicing in Newport Beach. She can be reached at

maxinecohen@adelphia.net or (949) 644-6435.