Naming a Fear — “Abaddon”
As part of ongoing work I’m doing with a group of queer artists, we’ve been tasked with identifying a specific fear. We’ve been asked to (1) give it a Name, (2) observe how it both protects and impedes us, (3) re-interpret the messages that it feeds us, and then (4) start to develop a more healthy internal relationship with that fear. It’s a novel twist on how I’ve seen various forms of therapy address these issues—CBT and DBT come to mind.
I have many fears. I’ve spent 30 years identifying and addressing them, with varying success. But, there is one Fear that reigns supreme amongst them all; it has been the “final arbiter” for much of my decision-making. While this has certainly protected me from many possible harms, I can’t ignore that it has also kept me from realizing dreams.
(1) ABADDON is my Fear of abandonment.
He (I can only see this fear as male) made his presence known very early in my childhood. I wasn’t abandoned in any typical way, as I had both parents throughout my life. No…Abaddon was invited in through having one parent (Marm) always in my corner, supporting me, and loving me with her whole heart, while the other parent (her husband) made it clear that I was a constant disappointment, he had never wanted me in his life, and our family was already “complete” with my elder sibling. I was unnecessary in his eyes. I was an embarrassment. I wasn’t “perfect” (unlike my sibling). Our family would be better without me.
Abaddon also got very fat on the direct messages that I heard as a child: “A place for everything and everything in its place…”, “If you can’t do something perfectly, don’t even bother trying…”, and “That’s right…give up…that’s what all weaklings do…”.
Abaddon didn’t hear messages from Marm that countered these as they didn’t feed him. Because he didn’t hear them, I learned not to remember Marm’s messages when I was being overwhelmed with her husband’s vitriol. Abaddon got fat…while I wasted away into a wispy shadow of what I could have been.
But, a healthy fear of abandonment is actually quite useful for us.
(2) It can warn us not to enter unfamiliar territory “blind”, it reminds us that not everything has to be done alone, and it can show us the relief of sharing both successes and failures in life. Abandonment fears are rooted in reminding us that we are, as a species, social animals. This fear, when properly nurtured, allows us to decide when to ask for help. It encourages us to be independent. It reminds us that there can be strength in numbers. When a fear of abandonment walks arm-in-arm with other social fears, it can help us to be the best possible example of unity. Oddly enough, this fear is intended to work co-operatively with other fears to guide, protect, and nurture us.
Tragically, Abaddon was fully formed and realized long before I had the opportunity to critically analyse the affect that he was having on my life. It is far more difficult to adjust a fear when I’ve had it whispering from the background or silencing all other voices until my late 20s.
(3) I’ve been chipping away at redefining the warnings of Abaddon for most of the past 30 years.
I thought, naively, that cutting all contact with Marm’s husband would quiet Abaddon; it didn’t. Abaddon had his own voice by that point.
I thought that “working through the pain” of my childhood would quiet Abaddon; it didn’t. While he had been getting fat in my childhood, my experiences as a young adult just reconfirmed what he had been telling me all those years.
I even pursued Psychology studies when I attended university (in my 30s), hoping that learning about the biology, mechanics, and mental gymnastics we humans do…would help to quiet Abaddon’s voice. It didn’t. My biggest takeaway from six years of university study just reaffirmed that judgement trumps intention every time. It’s all about the “results”.
I don’t know how to convert “You are a failure…” into something more positive. I don’t know how to transform “You are unwanted and in the way…” (the rationale my abusers used) into “This is not the place for you at this point in time…”. I don’t know how to replace “You are weak; don’t even bother on your own…” with “Don’t be afraid to ask for help…”. I know, speaking intellectually, how this is done, but I don’t know how to actually make it happen. As a result, I live with Abaddon whispering in my mind each and every day.
[NOTE: This is now day 3 of trying to write this post; this is the power that Abaddon continues to have in my life.]
(4) I’m at a loss how to develop a new relationship with Abaddon, and then nurture it into something that is beneficial to my life. Even the simple act of writing about him, “airing out my laundry in public”, sends me into the depths of expecting the worst in any reactions or feedback to this post. At almost 58 years of age, I still can’t shake the shadows of expectation, judgement, and being found unworthy.
I fully expect Manifesters™, Positivity Influencers™, and their ilk to respond with “If you just rewrote those internal scripts…”, “Just put your faith in God…”, and other equally as useless “advice”. My problem with their advice is that it often comes off as completely inauthentic. They, to no fault of their own, cannot see the privilege(s) that afford them the luxury of having such simple answers to very complex problems. They (as a group) have traded any wisdom that might actually have for the lure of monetizing that wisdom in the form of easily digestible sound-bites, daily affirmations, and whatever pablum the world seems to be gorging on at the time. I distrust Influencers™ almost as much as I distrust Politicians. They can’t be honest because doing so would undermine the very “positivity” that they are trying to sell.
Gryph doesn’t play that game.
In the end, I continue to battle with Abaddon more out of habit than anything else. History has taught me that introducing Abaddon to Hope (an eternal child of mine) tends to just lead to Hope running away, and Abaddon continuing to get fat. I need to find something that Abaddon will choke on.
Be well,
