Becoming Friends with Fears

I've been on an inner journey towards the roots of my fears for a while now. Today, I want to share a bit about the biggest fear I've encountered along this path. The fear of being trapped, imprisoned...

Facing this fear was pure agony. The root of that fear was there, but I didn't create it. Although I carried a fear that wasn't mine for years, I eventually received its gifts, yet I struggled to stay with it. That fear was also the key to my freedom. Who could have known that the fear of being imprisoned, trapped, would liberate me? Hence, today I call it the root fear.

The entire story was my mother's story. As a child, she felt a call to be free from the story, the family, and the society she found herself in. To realize this desire, she chose my father, who worked abroad, perhaps hoping he would take her with him. But life didn't go as planned. My mother couldn't keep her promise to my father and couldn't free him; on the contrary, she trapped him even more. She brought him to her mother's house, and my mother was trapped in a life filled with anger and resentment. My mother tried to escape this story several times, but, in her words, stayed in prison to conform to societal norms, growing bitter. The woman who carried the world within her clung to life with anger and resentment, and I think she never forgave my father after that, but in truth, she couldn't forgive herself for the choice she made. However, she couldn't awaken to this. I wish she could. This is where my trap lies. Remember, Sara, this is her path...

Then she took each of us into her arms, one by one. Her only concern was to raise children who wouldn't be trapped like her. My older sister, being a true girl child, couldn't study; the fate of girls in society was pre-written. She was my mother’s helper at home, unable to go out or play with other children. My mother couldn't free her first child; giving birth to a girl hindered her own liberation. I was her second chance, and by chance, she gave birth to another girl. But this time she would do things differently. Growing up like a boy was her strategy for liberation, or perhaps it was my protection mechanism to receive love—I don’t know, but I realize years later that it worked.

When I was like a boy, I wasn't confined to the house. I grew up playing with boys outside, and the decision of whether or not I would go to school was never even discussed. My hair was always cut like a boy's; I never had a doll, and I never dressed like a girl. My mother and I managed this situation until adolescence, but our game of liberation exploded in adolescence. I was now expected to dress and behave like a girl, but I didn't know how. I had no skills in the kitchen, wasn't allowed to talk to boys, and didn’t know how to make friends with girls.

My entire childhood was filled with codes of being free, being independent, standing on my own feet. It was all about working to be the best version of myself, rejecting the current situation, and striving to be strong like a boy. I had to work hard and be successful because I was my mother’s project. I was to be her project of self-liberation. She had found new keys to escape from my father and the life she was trapped in. Despite being the second child, I took on this role first. I accepted this role to be loved, accepted, and to make her happy, and ultimately, to free her. I had to succeed, be the best, and liberate her as well.

As a child, feeling inadequate, all I could do was work hard. Eventually, I had no choice but to escape. While my child mind kept dreaming of escape, my mother, who had previously researched ways to escape herself, pushed me to study hard and made all kinds of sacrifices for me to be the best. She knew that the only way was to get an education because now there was a girl raised like a boy. And so began my journey with fears. In a reality where failure was not an option, I did everything to be the best, always working hard, always striving to please. This brought me to Istanbul and one of the good universities. Failing was my biggest fear because success was the key to my freedom. I was afraid that if I failed, I would be trapped, sent back to Van, and live a life of imprisonment like my mother. Yet despite my success and freedom, I constantly found myself in relationships that trapped me—I couldn't escape my fate.

Living with this fear brought control into my life. Being constantly on guard was exhausting. It was time to start a journey; the only way was to understand these fears, bring awareness to them, and become friends with them. So I started to face my fears—what was the worst that could happen? I could make mistakes. I dared to live the worst-case scenario for myself and returned to Van, my biggest fear. The only thing I took with me was the knowledge that I was already free and the practices that would remind me of this. I was inwardly aware of the gifts this return, which seemed like a failure, would bring me. I sensed that if I faced my fears, befriended them, and tamed them, I would no longer be controlled, manipulated, or dominated by them.

I had no other choice. All the strategies I developed as a child had brought me this far, but they no longer served me. I had received the call to embark on a journey and retrieve the treasures from the cave I feared to enter. Ignoring this would be a betrayal to myself.

When I returned, the first gift I received was acceptance. To be accepted as I am, to be loved unconditionally, to be supported, to trust my closest ones. To be able to ask, "Can I rest a little, I'm tired," was to have the courage to be vulnerable. My biggest fear taught me surrender, to accept what is, and to make peace with it. The love I sought, the acceptance I yearned for, was possible only by owning the parts of myself and my family that I hadn’t embraced. When I accepted and loved myself, it led me to meet my authentic self.

In conclusion, facing the biggest fear changes one's relationship with fear. You become friends, but you still negotiate. You choose whether to engage in the games you know you can succeed in. Freedom, it turns out, is being able to choose. Listening to the call of your soul and being able to make choices. The deep-rooted feeling that used to disconnect me from the moment is now my friend, advising me on what might lead to more suffering, saying, “Look, these can happen, be prepared,” and “Look, these will tire your soul, don't enter here.”

Today, I wanted to share this story with you and invite you to become friends with your fears through this writing. I hope it inspires and serves as a reminder.

With love, Sara