Scared of the dark

Posted on by WritingfromtheheartwithBrian

When I was in elementary school, I got an invite for a friend’s birthday party. I should have been excited about the invite, and I was, but I was nervous too. The party was going to be a sleepover. I remember worrying that my friends would figure out my deep, dark secret.

I was scared of the dark.

I worried they would figure out what I was hiding and would make fun of me. I would be called “a big baby” and would be a laughingstock. When my mom asked if I was ready to go to the party, I was slow getting my things together. I went from being excited and happy to being the human version of a sloth. It took everything to get me out the door.

When I finally got to the party, I threw my sleeping bag into the corner, put my gift with all the other presents, and went to play with my friends. I survived the day fine, we were busy and, on the go, but I worried about what would come later that night. 

What goes bump in the night

As it turned out, I shouldn’t have been all that worried. Most of the other boys invited to the sleepover were just as worried about the dark as I was. One friend asked the birthday boy’s mom to leave the hall light on and the bedroom door open a smidge, and another friend opened the window drapes wide so that beams of light from a streetlight could reach across the room. 

As an adult, I look back and laugh. We all have our moments of worry and shame. We think we’re too big, we think our vulnerabilities are something to keep hidden and secret. We’re worried about being criticized and rejected by others, when in reality, our “shame” is what makes us human. 

In my mind, our vulnerability is what makes us who we are. 

Letting out a sigh

When I saw that I wasn’t the only one scared of the dark, I was shell-shocked. I never expected that the other boys would have the same worries. My whole demeanor changed. I couldn’t put my words together at the time to explain what I was feeling, I was much too young to understand much about psychology, but looking back now, I see that I felt joy. We’re writing about joy and all its many forms this month on The Heart of the Matter.

When we think of joy, we traditionally think of moments of delight, jubilation or triumph in our life. When I saw that I wasn’t alone in my worries, I felt free. I didn’t have to hide. I didn’t have to put up a front.

Of course, a few friends joked that they weren’t scared of the dark. They tried to act tough and show off how strong they were, but we all knew the truth. I learned for the first time that we all have our vulnerabilities. Ironically enough, I lost all worry about darkness in that moment. I gained confidence that I didn’t know I had.

For a little kid, it was a strange lesson, but one that helped me be more understanding and empathetic when I was an adult and saw others hiding “secrets” with deeper societal challenges. What worries have you kept hidden over the years and have you ever felt the joy and the freedom of giving yourself grace and releasing them out into the world?

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Please join in on the discussion on the HoTM site. In addition, please visit my personal blog at www.writingfromtheheartwithbrian.com to read the companion piece I wrote today or follow me on Instagram at @writingfromtheheartwithbrian.

All the best, Brian.

Images by Pexels.

39 thoughts on “Scared of the dark”

  1. Pingback: When the ghosts come out to play – Writing from the Heart with Brian

  2. Letting the world see who you truly are is scary…but how many do you trust enough to let see the real you? And then do you worry it will be used against you?

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    2. Your comment feels so eerie. I sat down to read blogs today with the intention to write something related. I’ve been struggling how to put something related into words; then, re-watching a couple of my fave nerd shows, I saw a scene that … made this fear so vivid to both eye and heart, it struck me way deeper than when I first saw it twenty-ish years ago. Feeling some … serendipity here? Grace? Whatever it’s best called, I’m grateful for it all.

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      2. Serendipity, grace. Hard words to explain, but you know it when you see them. I hope you’re able to put your thoughts down into words, I can’t wait to read them. The world is scary. It’s hard to trust others. There are many that you can’t trust, but when you find “your people” and can drop the masks and insecurities, it can be a wonderful joyful feeling. I’m sure elementary school me was still pretty worried about making a fool of myself, but seeing how the other boys were reacting, I knew that I wasn’t alone. It’s a freeing experience!

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  3. I was nineteen when I finally stopped sleeping without a light. I remember how terrifying were the first couple of weeks, lying in the dark going, “The fact I feel afraid doesn’t mean there’s (necessarily) a monster here!” This has been helpfully relatable in parenting! About which …

    “In my mind, our vulnerability is what makes us who we are.” I love (and am choked up by) this whole post, but these words especially went right to my heart. My mom would say that she loved the human imperfections that made each of us humans who we are, which I thought was the strangest thing … until parenthood helped me, with great delight, finally get the point.

    I now keep a beloved-to-her shirt that’s covered with stains. Each of those stains is, for me, a reminder to try leaning into embracing the beauty of the imperfections that make us so beautifully, and blessedly, human.

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    1. Oh, I still keep a nightlight on at night and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m joking, but there’s some seriousness there too. I’m glad my piece touched you Deborah, it means a lot. Your mom must have been a very wise woman. I love that quote. When I was young, I tended to be on the smaller size, I stuttered, and had a dimple that I thought made me look strange. Now as adult, I absolutely love those imperfections, they make me who I am. I think you’re right, lean into and embrace the imperfections! Thanks so much for your comment. 🙂 😉 🙂 🙂

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  4. I love this story—it illustrates that underneath the skin we are all subject to the same fears and insecurities. Airing our vulnerability by sharing it with another joins us at the heart because it helps us realize that we are all one. It takes courage, but the reward is worth it, because there is no greater gift than a heart connection with another sweet soul!

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    1. Oh Julia, thank you so much for your kind comment. I really appreciate this. You’ve explained it in so much simpler terms . . . our vulnerabilities make us one. It’s a leap of faith, but I know when I’ve found “my people”, fought through the fear and showed my true soul, I’ve been better for it. Thanks so much for helping make sense of the world!

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  5. I love Julia’s thought about “airing vulnerability”. Feeling that! I love this story, Brian. And your line here: …”our vulnerability makes us who we are”. Yes, yes! And then you add that layer of goodness by sharing and we build connections. So good. 🥰

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    1. It really is funny how the imperfections and vulnerabilities that I worried about as a kid or even a young adult are the things I love about myself now. They were once challenges to be overcome but now the old wounds have become strong and are the things I reach for when new challenges come along. Or something like that. Thanks for the kind comments.

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  7. You were a courageous little boy, Brian, as were the others who attended the party despite their fear. Several might have experienced the relief, learning, and happiness you felt. You stood up and took your fear on, didn’t wait for it to evaporate first. It doesn’t. Congrats!

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    1. Oh, thank you Dr. Stein. You’re so right about it not evaporating. Oh, how I wish it sometimes would. I’ve found that I need to stand-up to fear as soon as I notice it, because when it festers and grows, it tends to double, triple in size. Thanks so much for the feedback!

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  8. I love this wonderful story and your conclusion about shame and vulnerability, “When I saw that I wasn’t alone in my worries, I felt free. I didn’t have to hide. I didn’t have to put up a front.” I’m so grateful that every time you write, no matter the subject, it is so relatable that it reminds me that I’m not alone! Thanks for another fantastic post, Brian!

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    1. Your comment about my writing being relatable made my day Wynne. I’m not sure I consciously try to do that, but I am convinced that we are more alike than we are different. We all have stories about our lives that others can relate to and find interesting. With this one, I was just thinking about times in my life when I felt joy. I remembered the party and how I felt happy when I got home. When I started to think about why I was so joyful and I remembered the shame, vulnerability, and imperfections, it hit me that I might have a story. Thanks for the kind words!!!

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  9. In an odd way I think fear can be a gift, especially when we have the ability to share it and connect with others through it. Some never find a way to open themselves or let go and thus never know that freedom you mention Brian.

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  10. Not enough time or space here, but what a great writing prompt your closing question is! Thanks for the kind reminder that we all have a little (or lot) of something to get over and are never alone in that.

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  11. Great post! Showing our vulnerabilities doesn’t make us less manly; I would argue it shows one’s maturity and self-confidence to admit there are things that frighten us.

    When I taught sixth-grade, my colleague and I used to take our students on an end-of-the-year, three-day, two-night camping trip. Kids who could be cocky and arrogant at school sometimes had to have their parents come get them because they were so homesick. We’re all scared of something.

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  12. There’s a magic in those moments when we realize the monsters in the corner are merely shadows, and there is something so deeply human about connecting with others over shared fears. Beautiful!

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  13. How brave of you to agree to go to the party. What a gift to find out you were not alone with your fear of the dark. I’m reminded of my son spending the night with a friend and worrying about his ugly headgear he had to wear at night. What a relief when I walked him to the door and his friend was wearing his nighttime headgear, too! I wrote a children’s story about that years ago for the Los Angeles Times, when they had a children’s section. Of course that section was cut along with the editor I worked with.

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  14. That must’ve caused a lot of anxiety before and during – I think the dark and wetting the bed were my anxieties growing up when it came to sleep overs.

    It’s so comforting that you found out everyone was in the same boat. And that vulnerability became an opportunity to bond.

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  16. Pingback: Well Said Saturdays – August 26 – The Heart of the Matter

  17. Showing others who we really are is the only way to go. I’m convinced of this. Everything else causes a lot of distress, and as you so eloquently showed, other people are hiding their insecurities, too.

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