Isn’t it time to love our fears?

How often are we told that we should “conquer our fears”? We just need to “push through them”. Every time I hear comments like those, my thoughts turn to my practice as a medium.

So much of my work as a medium is about resolving the past, often by finding answers to questions that have sometimes remained outstanding for generations. A common theme among those issues has been that the answers were not forthcoming because people were afraid. Sometimes, they were afraid to ask for help, never for a moment expecting that it would be offered. Sometimes, it’s fear of how they will be perceived for their actions. Sometimes, they are simply afraid because of misunderstandings that happened before their death.

Recently, I suffered a serious injury that resulted in me being severely limited in my ability to move, to breathe, indeed to function normally. One conseqence was that I had to undergo an emergency procedure to re-inflate a lung, the pain of which caused me to pass out. All the events around that time left me in clinical shock, unable to connect with those around me in any meaningful way. I had recurring nightmares that there may be a need to repeat the procedure; a proposition I could not face, so I retreated inside.

Should I have just “conquered my fear”? Should I have just continued to brutalise myself by denying my pain, my fear, my legitimate terror of “what might be”?

Instead, my husband, a clinical psychotherapist, encouraged me to hold, to comfort and to reassure those parts of me that were afraid. He reminded me that they would best find their way back to the world if encouraged that they were still loved, still valued, just afraid, and with good reason. There were times that it felt like sitting beside a camp fire at night, waiting for the hurt, the wounded parts of me to get up the courage to come sit beside me, to enjoy the warmth and reassurance that the fire offered. Eventually, when they felt safe enough, I started to engage with those feelings, to reassure them that they were not alone. They needed to learn that I, my husband, my wonderful surgeon, would all take care of them to achieve a safe, painless and long-term solution to the injuries I had suffered.

So often in my branch of mediumship, it’s like that in working with Spirit. So many of those I engage with are afraid, wary, hurt, frightened. My job is to light the fire and wait for them to join me, to leave the door open for them to communicate with me in their own time, when they feel safe; to tell their story in their time, their way. Sometimes, that story may take moments to be told. Sometimes, it may take months.

In one case, a client asked that I speak with her brother who had committed suicide many years ago. Within moments, I located her brother, who explained that during the Second World War, he had fallen in with a group of black marketeers, without at first realising that was what they were. By the time he understood what was really going on, they controlled his life, threatening that if he said anything to anyone, they’d wreck vengeance on his family. He believed that his only way out was to take his own life, but even then, he felt unable to explain to anyone why he felt that suicide was his only option. It took but a moment to give him a voice to explain, and in doing so, for him and his sister to find peace. He could set his fears of vengeance aside, explain to those who still missed him why he had done what he did, and to move on, happy that things were resolved.

For others, the events they suffered prior to their deaths were too complex, too painful to be resolved in one sitting. Sometimes, I’ve worked with Spirit to bring healing in the long-term, so that they can unravel the events in their own time, first finding peace with their pain before communicating with my clients to explain what really happened.

The common theme in all these stories is the need for compassion. Often it’s compassion with ourselves, to allow ourselves to experience our pain, our fear, and to love those parts of ourselves that have been stretched, brutalised beyond a point where we can deal with anything more. What to someone may seem trivial - for example, I am terrified of heights - to others may be overwhelming. A fear of heights may seem pretty trivial. It took me years to understand that my terror of heights comes from a fall when I was too young even to remember the event. It was only in discussion with my mother some years before her death that she recounted the events relating to the fall, and suddenly, things started to make sense. From there, I’ve resolved much of the fear.

My proposition is that next time someone tells you to “just push through the fear”, remember that what they are saying, albeit unintentionally, is “just brutalise yourself some more”. Next time you find that you’re afraid of something, ask yourself why you’re afraid, and what that part of you might need by way of support to get through the fear.

So often, we are so ready to criticise ourselves. Maybe it’s time we learned a little self-compassion and from there, a little compassion for those around us, both living and in Spirit. In the end, although it might seem difficult to believe, we really are all doing our best to make it through. A little self-care and self-compassion might just make the journey a bit easier.

Alexander Dalgleish-Weaver