Guest post: I Still Feel Scared Sometimes by Mary Ellen Dirkson

I Still Feel Scared Sometimes

My brother, Rob, died by suicide fifteen years ago now.

I’m a grown adult, with an oldest daughter in college and youngest almost in middle school.

I’ve studied serious topics, all my degrees and diplomas framed on my wall.

I’ve gone to counselors for ten years and they all confirm I’m not suffering from some serious mental disease or irresolvable pain.

Yes, I know better than to worry the entire bottom of life will fall out.

But I still feel scared sometimes.

***

A friend told me the other day, “I sense anger at your brother related to his death.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I wanted to say.

I felt angry to be seen as angry, even though I knew he was right.

But as all timely, spiritual conversations go, when he persisted and asked, “What do you think is the root?”, an answer floated through my mind: I am angry because I feel scared.

When the thought came, I knew it was a call to face these feelings of fear head-on.

I forced myself to sit with the feelings awhile.

And as I thought, here is what came to mind:

- I still feel scared, Rob, because you never warned me you were leaving, forever. Your actions upended my world.

- I still feel scared because you died, Rob, when you were 27-years-old and what if I die young now, too? Young death and even suicide feels wicked and mystical, like a curse that could come on me, too.

- I still feel scared, Rob, because you were hiding a secret will to die, and I’ve learned other people hide secrets, too. Can I trust anyone, anymore?

- I still feel scared because I’m losing some memories of you, Rob. And now that you’re gone, I know after I’m gone others will forget me, too. Does my life matter at all?

- But most of all, I feel scared, God, because my only sibling is dead and you did not stop it. You let Rob take his life. He was not prevented. He could not be revived.

The same friend reminded me, “The opposite of faith is fear.” He’s suffered his own tragedies. In spite of his past he feels thankful to be alive.

I was a little annoyed at the reminders, obvious as they are, but the friend does have a certain joy, and I knew his words were worth listening to.

***

From long ago, years and years before Rob died, a memory came back of the day I made a resolution to trust Jesus Christ.

A settledness arose as I thought of faith and fear.

All the fears I felt about Rob and life are true, I thought to myself. I accept their possibility:

- People do leave forever sometimes without warning.

- I may die young, too.

- Others hide secrets. Their secrets may impact me.

- Others will forget me when I’m gone, even family and friends. My legacy is unsure.

- I am human. I will die.

But I knew, too, in my spiritual self, that under these worms and weeds of life, I stand on solid Earth. 

The seasons still change on cue.

I carry breath in my lungs all the time.

My heart beats to a rhythm without any work on my part.

And best of all, something in me still seeks out what is good.

Something solid, all these years, prevails for me.

It is written, “perfect love casts out fear.” 

So the fear is expelled by love, not by me.

Today, I invite this love deeper into my heart and my life:

Dear Perfect Love, 

Please dwell in my center of self where fear hides.

Plant new seeds in this soil where worms and weeds once grew.

Change whatever in me suffers from feelings of impending doom.

Help me feel safe.

Assure me you are active and here.

Please lead me to quality people and places.

Fill my world with color, beauty, order and rightness.

Revive what was lost when Rob died.

Please, fulfill the yearning for good things in my life.

Yes, perfect love, please cast out this fear.

Amen