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“What’s one word you would use to describe your 2020?”

I heard someone ask this last week, and was a bit stumped. How do you shoehorn this year into a word?

For most of us, there’s been a lot of loss. A strange twilight of in-betweenness.

But you can’t describe this year without fear.

(Had to laugh at a meme I saw this week: Lord, give me a coffee to change the things I can change, and wine to accept the things I can’t.)

Some of us, particularly as women, I think (1 Peter 3:6), can live so much of our lives as the marionettes of fear. Personally, when I’m exhausted, fear is one of my go-to’s.

But what if it’s taking from me–and my kids–more than I think it is?

1. Fear disconnects us.

I’ve mentioned that in college I grew (or shrank?) perilously close to an eating disorder.

But as much as I’ve studied the patterns and choices delivering me to that point, the one that surprised me?

Control.

Eating disorders aren’t about eating. They’re about the psychological, emotional, and spiritual needs beneath.

I was shocked that control would be an issue for me. Because I’m totally the opposite with others. My husband used to say I was ready to hand anyone the leash around my neck; I was a pleaser extraordinaire.

But that left me feeling…out of control. More than that, I had realized people treated me quite differently when I was thinner. I had also grown my social skills since losing weight–so I was learning a lot of ways to not be rejected. And not be as vulnerable.

I became smooth at avoiding the vulnerability and rejection I abhorred. But a lack of vulnerability also means a lack of genuine connection.

And that’s part of what fear robs from our families: The ability to be truly–rather than ostensibly–connected.

The more we devote to appearances or avoiding rejection, the less we’re connecting at the heart level. We get really uncomfortable talking about negative emotions (sadness, anger, fear, loneliness). More and more becomes secret–becomes disconnected–as we fear people finding out whatever mess we’re hiding.

And in that way, we stunt our own healing.

2. Fear makes us demanding.

Beneath some of my most controlling moments as a parent, as a person, often lies fear.

And sometimes, when I peek beneath the surface of those who appear demanding, fear seems to have their hearts in a vise.

That’s not at all to say that our families are better without boundaries, safety, healthy discipline, or managing our kids well. There’s a very healthy degree of control to be had that our culture doesn’t value as highly as God does.

But when we move beyond trusting God to demanding control?

That’s more like someone serving an idol. Just sayin’.

As fear makes us its slave, we enslave others to keep our world safe.

3. Fear makes the world smaller. (In the bad way.)

When I interviewed for my first job out of college–a writing job–the interviewer asked why I never wrote for the university paper.

The paper never interested me, I told him. (I didn’t get the job.) But years later, I remembered that I’d joined the high school paper…and wrote absolutely zero.

It was the year following a “mean girls” year in high school…and two of the girls leading the pack also led the paper.

I volunteered for one article, found they hated it and wouldn’t publish it, and never volunteered again. I’d missed the tone, I remember–a completely accurate criticism.

Yet as a whole, fear inhibits us. I’ve written before that after I was married, my creativity crept out like a troll in the forest.

For so long, I’d concentrated on not rocking the boat. I wouldn’t wear red; would walk only on the edge of the sidewalk, even when it was empty.

Fear as a parent has similar inhibiting effects. It may keep our kids from taking risks, ferreting out the fullness of who they are–because fear has a suffocating presence, choking out growth to keep life controllable. It stifles innovation and courage and exploration.

What effect could a fearful parent have on a future artist? Leader? Gymnast? Writer?

Sometimes we’re keeping kids from critical antibodies and resilience they need for life-altering situations in their future.

Fear might even keep us from obedience. Opportunity. The courage to do what’s hard to go the distance for someone else (like sharing our faith, or entering into someone’s chaotic world).

When Anxiety Affects Raising Boys

As a mom of boys, I think of all the competitions my boys would set up for themselves, to the tune of, What’s the highest stair I can jump from without blood getting on the carpet? 

They’re testing their abilities, their limits, their aptitudes and abilities to affect change.

They’re constantly challenging themselves for the questions so many men ask of themselves. Am I competent? Am I capable? 

But if I don’t let them risk a little? Sometimes, the answer they’re getting is…no.

(See The Many Shades of Fear-Based Parenting from Psychology Today.)

4. Fear keeps us emotionally immature.

As I’ve intimated, my near-eating disorder was a symptom of something far more disordered than my eating.

In fact, I was so much more comfortable with the mask I presented that I was less and less comfortable should it ever slip a few inches.

In a lot of ways, I still wore it when I was alone.

Fear keeps us from exploring the truth about ourselves or our kids. It might keep us from a diagnosis we need, from wrestling with loss, from working on the real issues in us or our families. Because it’s just more comfortable not to talk about it.

In that lack of emotional awareness and mindfulness, our emotions can tend to manage us from behind.

Maybe we can’t sleep. Or we “out of the blue” snap at someone. We might fall over ourselves to make someone like us. Or turn backflips to shield our kids from disappointment.

But it affects how we love people, too. It’s hard to be fully present with someone…when you’re not even attentive to yourself. They’re not getting the idea, “You can be real here.” Authenticity begets authenticity.

…But there’s good news.

Giving way to fear is a deeply ingrained habit. But it’s not my master. In fact, it’s pretty hard to serve two different bosses, I’ve heard.

Throughout Scripture, it’s fascinating how much God pairs “do not fear” with “I am with you”. He associates it with deep belief in his profound love, care, and control.

So one choice at a time, I’m having to get intentional–at that fork in the road–to choose trust rather than fear.

Only one of those doesn’t rob me blind.

Like this post? You might like

Much Afraid: How Fear Turns a Good Parent into a Slave [INFOGRAPHIC]

The Breath We Breathe: On Fear–and Trust in the Middle of Danger

The Scribbled Heart: Fear-parenting vs. Faith-parenting