Fear And Learning To Trust

I hate fear. I have never been courageous, not in my own mind at least. My past is a street littered with wrong reactions to being afraid. I have fled when I should have fought and fought when I should have fled. I have drank myself stupid and drugged myself into oblivion to escape feelings of fear and the anger I didn't want to feel that always seems to accompany my fear.

Saturday afternoon I sat in the room and spoke about how fear had crept back into my life, bringing with it the ghosts of some old resentments. Resentment can not be separated from fear in my life. When I have been resentful there has always been an underlying source of fear, and whenever I have been afraid for long, resentment was birthed. I had not noticed that I had taken some of my old resentments back and given them life again. I had not realized that I had grown  afraid again until I had to start looking at why I had been reacting out of anger the last few days.

Examining the feelings that were stirred up at the death of my friend John gave me insight into the deeper truth, and since I wrote about that earlier in the week I won't expound on it here. I felt grateful to have been given insight into what was going on in my heart and mind. I saw what I needed to do to get back to where I need to be spiritually. The first and most important thing was place myself fully in the arms of God and trust Him, trust Him with my past, my present, my future, my family, my hopes, dreams and calling.

Today I am even more grateful for that revelation. I have learned how to trust God in a lot of ways and areas, but in truth I am a novice at the whole trust thing. I need to learn more, practice more. I need to get to intermediate level, if not expert, and fast, because I am afraid. And let me repeat, I don't do well with fear on my own. Thank God I'm not on my own.

Yesterday I went to a noon meeting. I enjoyed a beautiful ride into town on my motorcycle. The sun was shining, the wind felt fantastic, and Sixx A.M.'s Heroin Diaries serenaded me all the way in.  I praised God for the opportunity to make a meeting and  the nice ride as I got off my bike, filled my Danish freehand with my special blend of pipe tobacco and headed for the door. There was a newcomer and a few short timers so the "What it was like, what happened, and what it's like now" topic was a good  one, and I felt grateful for the opportunity to be of service with my experience, strength and hope. About ten minutes before the meeting closed, I left early to pick up some stuffed potatoes and meet Leah for lunch.

During the meeting, the sky had changed. The clouds had grown gray and heavy. Within three blocks I felt the first sprinkles of rain hit my face. I pulled onto North St and road into a serious rain at the edge of the college campus. The road was wet and slick and the one-o'clock traffic heavy. I've been in a few motorcycle accidents, and they aren't fun. I managed to buy the bike on credit around the time I got off parole, it was my celebration of freedom. But my old helmet deteriorated to trash during my stay with the state, and I have not bought a new one yet.

So here is another example of reacting wrong to fear. Afraid of riding on a slick, wet road congested with traffic, I decided to turn off and take side streets. Traffic in front of me was at a stand still in both northbound lanes. Even though it was a block and a half from the light, it appeared that the red light caused the blockage. I was wrong in that assumption. The two vehicles at the point of the street exiting campus onto North St. had stopped with enough space to let drivers on campus pull through. I didn't see this as I pulled into the turning lane and moved forward toward the turn I was about to make. I had slowed down, thank God, but not too slow since the Southbound lane was clear. At the speed I was going, probably around 15 to 20 mph I would be able to make the turn without having to stop to wait for traffic to clear.

The Southbound clearing of traffic gave another driver the feeling that she too was good to go. I don't know if either of the two drivers who stopped short of the side street for the light waved the other driver on or just left room, but  she pulled between them and the cars ahead and attempted to pull into the turn lane in preparation for merging into the Southbound lane. This poor girl, who had just started classes for the semester that day, had no way to see me coming down the turning lane. I had no way to know she was coming. I moved from behind the stopped SUV in the left lane into the turning lane, and when I was at the driver's door I saw this little black car appear from in front of the SUV moving into the turning lane. I had half a car length to get stopped on a wet road, and that was if the other driver got stopped pretty much instantly.

I was screwed. I applied the brakes and felt the bike slide forward toward the car without slowing down. It felt as though I actually began to speed up. I just love wet city streets with their years of oily build up. In an instant I saw how this was going to go. I saw the bike's front tire slamming into the front bumper of the car head on, I saw my forks and the car's front end begin to crumple, and I saw my body going over the front of the bike, sans-helmet, airborn with nothing to stop me before the car's windshield. I made eye contact with the girl driving the black car, and her wide eyes told me see had the same vision.

I leaned to my left and yanked the right side of my handlebars putting the bike on its side and said a prayer. "Oh God, please keep my head off this pavement and make sure the bike hits the car." The last part of the prayer was in no way wishing ill on the other driver. The way the law used to be in Texas if a car pulled out in front of you and you laid your bike down in an attempt to not die, if the bike didn't strike the car that pulled out, the accident was ruled a single vehicle, rider's fault situation, and you got a ticket for failure to control speed. If your bike even bumped the other vehicle it was their fault for failure to yield right of way. Sound stupid?  I always thought it did, and evidently the state agreed.

At some point between when I had my last bike and when I wrecked my current one, that interpretation of the law changed. I thank God for that, because it appears that bike slid to a stop a few inched from the front bumper of the car. As the bike slid on its side I put my knee on the street, making sure that the direct impact with the road would pull my leg free from the bike, keeping me from being drug and burned by the sliding motorcycle. It worked, causing me to be thrown clear, but of course that presented other problems. I tucked my chin to my chest and tried to relax. My left elbow hit pavement, and then my left hand, and I tumbled to a stop.

My head never struck anything, and I didn't so much as stub a toe, which is another miracle considering the fact that I was wearing sandals. A leather jacket and gloves might have prevented  the road rash on my elbow, arm and hand, but it's not bad. My hip and back on the other hand hurt like hades.  I can barely walk, and there aren't any positions  that are close to comfortable for more than a few minutes.

The bike didn't appear to be damaged too badly, my sunglasses disappeared during the tumble, and I'm not sure at what point my earbuds went missing. The ipod my step daughter gave my wife miraculously survived the blow to my left side, and I thought I had made it through  relatively unscathed as well. I got up, nodded yes to the people asking if  I was ok, fell and got back up. I wobbled a bit but didn't go back down and suddenly there was an off-duty paramedic at my side who also rides motorcycles. I am grateful for the care and concern this stranger showed me.

He walked me over to the side of the road while assessing my injuries. I texted my wife to let her know that I  had been in an accident but was ok, all the while telling the man that I was ok and didn't need to go to the hospital. I couldn't tell if my bike actually hit  the car or not, and since I have no health insurance and liability only on the bike, I felt afraid to go to the hospital. I can't afford it. I just about had him convinced that I was fine when I hit send on the message to my wife. About two seconds later my back said screw you, and I crumpled to the ground in pain. I couldn't get back up.

Soon the ambulance and paramedics arrived, and I got a ride to Trauma Room B. Pain washed over and through me like acid rain, and my left leg kept going numb from the knee down. A few X-rays and Cat Scans later showed no internal bleeding and no broken bones. I will  be sore, but my initial assessment was correct. God blessed me, and I made it through the wreck relatively unscathed. There was nothing trauma related that the ER doctor was concerned about other than my pain management. The hardest parts of the event up to that point were trying to get in contact with my wife and making myself say the words, "I'm a recovered addict, no narcotics please," when everything within me wanted to beg for something to relieve the pain.

In the 90's I lost a friend in a motorcycle wreck. At the time I was a photographer for the local paper, and Brian's accident was the first fatality I pulled up on to photograph where I was friends with the victim. As soon as I saw his bike I knew who it was, and I  have never been able to get those images out of my mind. But as much damage as that death did to me, it did more to people I love. Brian was a friend of mine, but he was also Leah's brother. She never road with anyone again until years later she climbed onto the back of my bike. I had sent her a text telling her I was in a wreck and then collapsed without access to my phone. I felt horrible about the fear I knew this would cause her. When the Sgt. from NPD came by do what he needed to do, a very kind  and professional cop for whom I am grateful, the last thing he did for me was get my phone from  the pants so I could reach out to Leah. I had eight missed calls from Leah and my mother. Leah's voicemail scared me more than the wreck. The wreck produced terror for her, and I hurried to call her, let her know where I was and that I was OK. Once she arrived and stood by my side, one of the two hardest things up to that point were over. I could see her love for  me, and she could see I would  be OK.

Mom prayed for my pain and the doctor gave me Toradol, a non-narcotic, non-addictive pain killer.  It's not as good as Demerol, but it  seems to work better than Ibuprofen, so the other hard part was handled as well as it could be.

But while the doctor didn't see anything that concerned him from the wreck, the Cat Scans showed something else. The lymph nodes in my lungs are a mess. There's a problem, and of course. worst case scenario is cancer. He told me  I needed to get it checked out. Suddenly there was a new worst part of the day. Trying to keep a right attitude and spirit I added the motorcycle wreck to my gratitude list. If it is cancer, we have caught it early. That wouldn't have happened without the wreck. If it's not, whatever it is still needed to be discovered and dealt with.  Gratitude helps, but fear began to grow anyway.

My father-in-law, a doctor, looked at the Cat Scans with my wife this morning. He is very concerned, which is never good news. It appears that best case scenario is a slow growing TB. I was exposed to TB often during my stay with the state, but I was also tested yearly. It always came back negative. Now, and I never thought I would do this, I am praying that I developed TB after that point but before my release.

I have to get another TB test done asap. If that comes back negative, it's biopsy time, which if only my nodes in my lung are effected is a tricky and expensive procedure that I can't begin to afford. And if it's cancer, well things go downhill from there, early discovery or not.

I have to remind myself that it's progress not perfection and that my character defects have not all been removed. The ghost of the man I was is still inside me, I just catch him more quickly when he does his zombie act now. I attempted suicide in October of '99. It's a miracle it didn't work, and that made me angry at God for a long time. The attempt came after I committed my crime, and a month after I got out of the hospital they arrested me. I felt so betrayed and angry at God. Why would He save my life, refuse to let me die, just so I could go to prison? Well, He didn't save my life so I could go to prison. He saved my life to give me yet another chance to find relationship with Him and have a life worth living.

But this morning, that old way of thinking reared its ugly head. God, did you give me a life worth living so that just when I finally feel happy and like my life I can die a slow and painful death? Was is all just a tease and a practical joke? Here you go, have a taste of how it can be before I yank the rug out from under you? But no, that's not who God is, and that's not what He's like no matter what foolishness my fear spouts.

I forget sometimes. I get afraid sometimes and wonder where God is and what He's up to.  But I have learned that He loves me. That is true regardless of how this turns out. If I live forty more years or four more months, I have been blessed. I used to despise my life. I felt angry God wouldn't let me die. Now I want to live. I dream of growing old with my wife. I would like to experience this life worth living for at least as long as I experienced life that wasn't worth living. But what I want most is to enjoy whatever time God blesses me with in relationship with Him, in fellowship with Him, in service to Him and in a way that brings Him glory and blesses my wife, family and the people I meet who are still suffering and hurting searching for a solution.

Still there is fear, and I hate that. I want to trust God. I want to better know how to trust Him. I want to be able to "Fear not," and hear my Father say, "Peace I give to you, not as the world gives (or drugs and alcohol give), but as I give...a peace that passes all understanding and that can not be stolen or taken away, even at the threat of or point of death." I know that if I trust Him, He will not fail me. I will continue to have the life worth living that I have grown to love, no matter how long or short that time is. Now, I just have to figure out how to do  what I know to do. And keep praying for forty more years or so.