I attempted to reason with my daughter, a classic adult approach that quickly fell flat. For a child, once fear takes hold, it’s impervious to the feeble weapons of logic. So, I adjusted my strategy and delved into my own childhood memories to recall what it felt like.
At her age, I was terrified of bears. I was convinced one of those massive creatures would somehow stroll into our suburban home in San Carlos, and I would awaken to find a bear’s head peering at me from my top bunk, ready to devour me. The fact that bears had never been spotted in San Carlos didn’t matter to me. They existed in my mind, lurking alongside those moving mannequins. The absurdity of how a bear without opposable thumbs could unlock our front door did nothing to quell my bear-related fears.
As I grew older, I developed an irrational dread of a pendulum clock in our kitchen. It wasn’t a menacing grandfather clock; just a simple wall clock. Yet, in the dark of night, I was convinced the ticking of the pendulum was inching closer. I never paused to consider how a small clock could actually harm me; perhaps it was a subconscious understanding that the relentless passage of time would inevitably bring my end.
My daughter’s fears mirror my own childhood anxieties. That mannequin is moving. The clock is creeping closer. Bears have access to our home. These fears feel very genuine.
As an adult, I have my share of worries. I fret that a bank error could strip us of our home, or that a faceless corporation is out to ruin me. And then there’s the looming reality of funding weddings and college for my three daughters—now that’s not just a fear, that’s a looming fact!
I have a friend who is genuinely anxious about space debris plummeting to Earth. I’m serious! He also obsessively applies bug repellent to guard against the West Nile Virus, despite rarely stepping outside. I suppose that’s a precaution against falling space junk.
My friend’s fears seem real to him, just as my concerns about large corporations resonate deeply with me. My mother-in-law holds an irrational belief that any glass elevator could plummet at any moment, and to her, that fear is utterly valid.
Perhaps these fears never truly vanish; they merely shift into the background, replaced by new ones. I no longer lie awake worrying about bears invading my home—unless they’re disguised as a loan officer in a bank blazer! Thankfully, digital clocks have replaced my pendulum clock phantom.
It seems we might need some fears to keep us alert, a remnant of our ancestors’ fight-or-flight instincts.
Instead of employing logic or reason—those futile parental tools—I validated my daughter’s fear and sought to diffuse it. Together with her older sister, we dressed the mannequin in a ridiculous outfit that made my youngest giggle. Scarves, a princess dress, a feather boa, and some silly glasses with crazy eyeballs worked wonders. Those dress-up boxes really do come in handy!
For several nights after that, my daughter would actively look for the mannequin and smile upon seeing it. Mission accomplished!
Until last night, when I heard the familiar call from down the hall: “Mommy! Daddy! I hear scratchy noises coming from my closet.”
Don’t worry, sweetie, it’s probably just a bear.
This article was originally published on July 20, 2015. For more insights and tips, check out our other posts here, including important information on home insemination kits.
Summary:
In this engaging narrative, Jamie Collins reflects on childhood fears, comparing them to the anxieties faced as an adult. She recounts her daughter’s fear of a mannequin and shares how they creatively addressed it. The story highlights the persistence of fears throughout life and suggests that they may serve a purpose in keeping us alert. Ultimately, it’s a lighthearted reminder of how imagination shapes our perceptions of fear, both in children and adults.
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Childhood fears, adult anxieties, parenting, overcoming fears, creative solutions, family stories