Not too long ago, I was at a conference with a large group of women.
Each one, bar none, was fascinating unto herself. They came from all walks of life - some were corporate dynamos, some were retired, some were self-employed.
As we went around the room, telling our stories and our reasons for attending this symposium, one of the women said, "I guess I'm here because I have F.O.E."
"Jesus", I said, talking out of turn (like what else is new?), "That sounds awful. Is is something like MS?"
She smiled. Her beautific, serene, smile.
"No", she said. "F.O.E. stands for 'Fear Of Everything' "
All the women surrounding me chuckled a little. Ha ha ha. So cute.
But I wasn't amongst the chucklers.
Because I got it - those three letters were like a punch in the gut. Now I had a label.
I have F.O.E., too.
This realization, which isn't exactly a revolutionary epiphany for me, has permutated over the last couple of days.
For somehow, a hot button's been pushed. I suddenly felt the urge to write a piece (that may never see the light of day) about a particular incident of abuse I experienced as a child.
Then I spent the weekend in the company of a classmate who:
Never.
Watches.
TV.
Hell, he doesn't even own one.
I, on the other hand, watch a LOT of televsion. A lot.
Always have.
It's been my babysitter, my compadre, my friend, my rock.
I also tend to lose myself in movies and books and any other rabbit hole I can compulsively, obsessively burrow into.
Because it's safe.
It's sheer fantasy - I am well aware of that fact. But even if the story is horrible - I can close the book cover, press the exit button, leave the theater.
I am envious - ragingly so - with people (like my classmate) who really, truly, fully live their lives. Who forge out through that door, day after day, heart on sleeve, soul splayed open for the taking, ready to embrace or confront whatever crosses their path.
Because me? I can't. I just can't face the heartbreak, the sadness, the confrontation, the disappointment of it all. The less the investment, the safer.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not a complete agoraphobe. With a little effort, and a lot of procrastinating, I move about. I function. I manage in my controlled little world, with such a well-oiled veneer, Meryl Streep should be calling me for advice.
It's just the whole connection thing - connections are tricky things.
So, to those whom I love, to those in my circles, those in my solar system - I apologize. I hope that you know that I am always listening to you, I am always regarding you, I am always thinking of what I could do to make you happy. I care for you so deeply, it scares me. Showing you how much would not only freak the hell out of you, it would probably dessicate me.
I wish I could give you my all, all the time.
But I'm afraid I can't.
Amped up a little when we got to here,
And had me totally skeeved out when we met some fellow in the crossbow department pushing his cart filled with ,um, cleaning products:
When he and I accidently made eye contact whilst perusing the flourescent lingerie, I went into freak-out mode and pulled out my handy-dandy Cloak of Invisibility:
Duck!!! Blind
