When I was a kid, I watched every freaking scary movie I could lay my hands on. I was 7 years old and was able to recite The Lost Boys word for word. I watched every Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th. The Blob, Amnityville, Tales From the Crypt, It, American Werewolf in London…etc.
I watched the Clockwork Orange but I didn’t actually know what I was watching so that doesn’t count.
Nothing scared me. Why did nothing scare me? Because my parents were super laid back when it came to what I watched on TV. There were NO restrictions on TV, movies, video game consumption, candy, ice cream – I’m talking no restrictions what-so-ever on basically anything and everything that I wanted. Homework? Optional.
But that doesn’t explain why nothing scared me. Nothing scared me because my parents drilled it into my skull that nothing seen in a scary movie is real. It’s all fake. They are just regular people playing dress-up trying to scare us on purpose.
Basically, they were too self-involved to stop the movie and say, “hey, this isn’t suited for Mel.” They wanted to watch it and the only way they’d get me to watch it with them was by telling me it’s all make-believe. And in a way, I was brainwashed into having no fear of Jason Voorheese.
I grew up knowing what’s real from what’s fake. I grew up in a way that let me separate imagined fear from what’s actually taking place. I also grew up without a sweet tooth or ice cream addiction. I can’t remember ever doing my homework, but I never flunked.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, people don’t listen to all the facts before jumping to a scary conclusion. They assume the worst because they have little or no knowledge of what’s actually happening.
My Dad went in for a routine check-up and was called back into the hospital shortly after because of a low platelet count.
Time stopped. My mom cried. My brother cried. It was the end of the world.
Me – “Let’s not worry unless we have to.”
And I wasn’t worried. I knew he was fine. I just knew. But everyone else was freaking out.
Brother – “I know you don’t believe in god anymore, but now’s the time to pray.”
Me – “I never said I don’t believe in god.”
The thing is, I do believe. I actually believe more than anyone. But I also know (from my experience with ayahuasca) that we create our own reality. Whatever we believe WILL happen. And the kind of prayers my brother was talking about are the wrong kind of prayers. His prayers come from a place of non-belief, of feeling helpless and scared. The kind of prayers I believe in come from strength and actual knowing.
I guess it’s something you’d have to live through in order to understand what I’m talking about.
I did, however, break. Albeit a small break, but I can’t deny it. After speaking with my brother and mom for several minutes, I floated downstairs into my bedroom (floated into the imagery of the scary movie), and wondered, “what if this is it? what if my worst fear is happening? Am I just too delusional not to see it? Am I really that guarded and protected?”
I broke down and cried uncontrollably in the isolation of my room.
Me – “He’s okay. This is crazy!”
Then I cried some more.
Me – “I know he’ll be okay.”
And cried again.
I couldn’t breathe. Cement filled my chest. It’s an all too familiar feeling. One that I experienced much of last year only this time it was worse.
I slowly came out of it with having complete conviction in knowing that my dad will be okay. I had no choice but to believe it.
I decided that even if I was being delusional, I choose delusion over helplessness.
Yesterday they diagnosed my pops with ITP. It’s an autoimmune disease where the immune system attacks the platelets because they think they are foreign invaders. He had to get blood transfusions (thank god we’re not Jehovah’s witness) and go on steroids. If worse comes to worse, he’ll have to get his spleen removed.
He’s going to be fine. There are meds and there are treatments. I told my employee about it and she said she had that same thing in high school and it went away. She even knew the medical term for it, thrombocytopenia.
The world is one big scary movie. Everyone playing their part, purposely goading us into feeling what they feel, believing what they believe so they’re not alone in it. They either don’t want to feel alone, or they want something else from us.
I choose the simple path. Avoid avoid avoid. If someone sparks any emotion in me, I sprint to the nearest bar.