I have one fear that I have never managed to shake. Fire. I watch flames from a safe distance almost lovingly and yet I am terrified to get too close. I am certain that’s a decent metaphor for many of the things I love and respect, they can fill me with fear and wonder. Fear of fire is the closest thing I have to a phobia, but it is manageable. For a year of my life my fear was far from manageable, but it was the burning inside my self that terrified me. A few years ago, during a very difficult part of my life, when I didn’t know what was real and what was not, I was afraid of myself. I got to the point where I rarely left the house. I submitted myself to therapy, although to no avail. I was married at the time and things were not going well. I thought it was nymphomania, but looking back I think it was more about hitting out, hurting myself and those around me. Debasing and punishing my femininity. I saw everyone, even strangers, through a sexual lens, and it terrified me. I could only sleep with something or someone inside me to fill the void that I constantly felt. I was desperate in every sense of the word. It happened while I was writing Starblood. I think two things really set it off. My then husband was constantly lying to me, and as someone who is vulnerable to deceit at the best of times, he made me doubt my own sense of reality. I also invoked Lilith. I drew her strength from the moon to protect me, but whatever primal instinct I tapped into made me feel less in control of my life than ever. I would pass strangers in the street and imagine getting on my knees in front of them to perform oral sex. I’d imagine great orgies of faceless bodies touching me and fucking me. Even to those of you who read this and imagine it was a fun time, I can assure you it was not. I had an affair with a friend. I thought at one point it might be something more than a fling, but it turned out I was wrong. He stopped me from killing myself though, so that was a bonus. He didn’t lie to me either, and helped me piece together some stable concept of reality. With this in place my fear shifted and I externalised it. I was no longer afraid of myself but everyone else, or almost everyone. I sensed my vulnerability and I cowered in fear. I thought everyone wanted to hurt me. I became very angry, and I pushed people as far from me as I could. A friend helped me. Not through sex, but by allowing me to be completely vulnerable yet completely safe. My friend has had so many names I forget their current one, but I doubt I’d name them even if I knew the right word. They helped me by looking after my body as my mind soared. We used perception altering substances. I was in outer space, surrounded by stars, then I was so small I crawled inside the pores in my forearms. It was a trip and a half. And while my mind travelled light years away then returned to my skin time and time again, my body was protected. After that one night I have never again felt debilitated by fear. I was liberated from my terror, and I realised rightly or wrongly, but certainly empoweringly, that objective truth was not the only thing that mattered. Even if I could never be entirely sure of anything again, life was worth living, because I was both huge and tiny. Because I could touch the stars and find sanctuary in myself. And because there were people around me who I could trust with my life. I learned more from those twelve hours than the rest of my forty plus years. I learned to trust in myself and others, not all others, but the good ones. I learned that it was worth living for those moments of wonder when everything and nothing make sense. I also learned that LSD is yum, but I respect it enough not to use it for recreation. It was magical and medicinal. I am still wary of fire, but I no longer hide from the world. To me that’s a win.
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