Fear can be described as an unpleasant feeling of
anxiety or apprehension caused by the presence or anticipation of danger. The frozenness
and reluctance to proceed when stifled with fear is recognisable and
understandable to everybody when faced with pressure and uncertainty in
potential outcomes in life; preparing for an interview for a new job; meeting
new people in social occasions, a visit to the doctor. The strains of fear are
many and constant and in facing our fears we as beings have different ways of dealing
with any given situation.
In my younger years, I was engulfed by fear in
different ways and for different reasons. I lacked the confidence to interact coherently
with friends and family. I was uncomfortable in social settings and disliked
big crowds of people. In no way was I shy, but like most teenage boys, I had
little clarity or self-perception of my own personality and characteristics.
This social anxiety was brought to the fore through
two means; firstly in school I was a victim of bullying. Standing a little
plump and pudgy in my teenage years, my understanding as a boy was that ‘chubby’
kids were picked on and that was the norm, that being neglected and subpar to
other kids was just a rule in growing up and in going to school. I accepted the
taunts and the kicks and failed in any way possible to respond or defend
myself.
I cried. I sulked. I considered the changes I should
make to ensure these people would like me. Could I be like them and be cool?
How could I change to be popular? Again, this was my understanding as a boy;
that individualism was irrelevant and fitting in and altering your image and
behaviour to gain respect and stance was the only way to feel an ounce of
self-importance and belief.
There was no inner fear in dealing with these perpetrators
as in my naivety I saw them as friends. They were the cool kids that everyone
loved. I was an extra, part of the group only as geography and circumstance
would have it. We all lived close and we were all put in the same school. My
real fear was explaining to my teachers and my family my constant frustration
and upset in not being able to fit in and be an idol within the group. I often
fantasised of being the leader, the one wearing the new expensive clothes and
runners, the one the girls all talked to and the one everyone was afraid of.
My feelings of neglect and anger were notions I
pointed towards myself more than anyone else. I was angry and afraid of my own
personality and as a result of being put down; I was embarrassed at my own
talents and abilities. I was always a talented artist, I loved drawing. But in
the eyes of the perpetrators this wasn’t seen as acceptable and wasn’t judged
as being a talent for popular kids to have. Having won a local art competition in
school, my prized entry was ripped up in front me by ‘the leader’ – the guy I
wanted to be – and thrown out the window much to the classes amusement and
cheer.
Despite my upset, again I convinced myself that I
was excess to requirement in a class full of popular people. My talents didn’t
matter. My being didn’t matter and this was all very normal for a chubby, quiet
12 year old.
Was it all doom and gloom? Of course not. I played football
and loved it. I was a talented goalkeeper, but ‘the leader’ constantly reminded
me that I was only the goalkeeper because I was not able to play in an
important position outfield and he amongst others ensured that I knew very well
that there were several other players there who were all better in goal than I
was. I stopped playing as a goalkeeper and switched to outfield because it was
what the popular kids were doing.
The second leveller that caused an explosion of fear
and social anxiety came on 5th April 1998. Aged 13, I went into the
city centre to buy a new football jersey. Ireland had missed out on the World
Cup, but had issued a new range of playing gear and training gear and I had
saved up money for months in order to treat myself. Having made the purchase, I
decided to walk home from town. My mind wandered and the regular thoughts of a
boy my age filled my head as I made my way home. My solace was disturbed when
closing in on home. Not far from where I live, a man pulled me aggressively
from behind. He grabbed me by the shoulder and began shouting at me: ‘GIVE ME
YOUR JERSEY!’ ‘GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING JERSEY!’ I was completely shocked. Stunned into
statuesque fear. Terrified. How did he know what was in the bag? He must have
followed me. The situation worsened. Holding his forearm heavily across my throat
in order to restrain me, he reached for his pocket with his other hand and pulled
out a syringe. I could see clearly its contents. Brownish liquid. ‘I’LL FUCKING
STICK THIS IN YOUR NECK YOU PRICK! GIVE ME THE BAG!’
I screamed. I seriously screamed. It was 2.20pm on a
Tuesday afternoon. Broad daylight. People around. Cars on the main road. But I
was alone. I somehow broke free and ran the entire way home. I climbed into bed
and cried. I stayed in bed for days. The effects were harrowing. Already a
nervous boy lacking severely in confidence and in belief, I lost faith in
living. I lost faith in people and developed an unrelenting fear of society and
its goings on. I refused to go anywhere alone. I rarely left the house. I was
afraid of strangers and I was afraid of living. DOC
Wow that is harrowing.
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