Last night I went to a haunted house for the first time since I was about seventeen years old. Walking up to the big warehouse, I remembered why.
It's stupid to pay people to scare the shit out of you.
Anticipation almost did the three of us in while we waited in line to get into the actual haunted house. Standing in the cold were "monsters" roaming around everywhere. Clowns and zombies and men on stilts and wearing black capes.
Every one of your senses is involved in fear. Sounds, textures, temperature, colors (or lack of), smells.
I almost backed out. As the monsters roamed the parking lot, I second guessed this decision to willingly subject myself to a certain level of terror. The first evil clown approached us, green hair and squeaking toys. He picked Mary to harass and I was left alone. We were in a constant state of awareness -- frantically looking around, trying to keep an eye on the monsters so we weren't taken by surprise.
Mary and I are true social workers at heart and it didn't take long for our coping mechanisms to kick in full force. Change perspective. Gain your bearings. Face the problem. Face the monster. Face the fear.
Standing in line I was approached by the stupid clown on stilts. He came up from behind me, and I could hear the squeaking of him, feel him towering over me. Dipped my chin. Closed my eyes. And he started squeaking in my ear. First the left. I turned my face slightly, eyes still closed. Then the left. He moved, I moved. Breathe. Finally he left and I exhaled.
A clown approached me and I tried a new tactic. Looked him right in the face. He leaned forward and touched his nose to mine. Fear melted away. He was chewing fruity gum.
My mind started spinning. Drawing parallels and comparisons. And finally I turned to Mary and Carlee and said, "my every day life is a lot scarier than this. And it is real. This is not real. But here, I get to scream. I get to scream and run for my life."
What we were afraid of was not real. The fear we were facing was not only self-induced, but it was fake. Even in the moments of pumping adrenaline and in between screams, we could look at each other and say "this is not real."
There was one zombie who liked us quite a bit. He seemed to scare everyone, but when he walked up to the three of us we all just smiled and told him how cute he was. A young black guy with a painted on smile, our comment took him by surprise. And he found us everywhere we went. At one point he got kicked in the face, while sliding around on the ground, and he walked up to us holding his jaw. "I just got kicked in the face," he pouted.
In the middle of the first haunted house, we held hands like little girls and verbally denounced every single monster we came across. Before screaming and hurrying on. One monster looked just like a friend of ours, the other had pretty teeth. We joked about one monster's insecurity and commented on another's flexibility.
Once a social worker, always a social worker.
And no one is exempt from the fear.
At one point in the maze, I found myself keeping my head down and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
It's the startling that gets me. The jumping out of corners, the slithering out from under tables, the crouching in the shadows. If I can endure the startle, I am able to look the monster in the eye. And he loses his power.
I cannot tell you how many times I stood very still, and told the monster to get out of my face.
The things I face in my daily life are real. The dangerous people, the addictive substances, the hungry bellies, the empty bank accounts. The disorders, the syndromes, the prison sentences. The dark alleys and the late night phone calls. The empty refrigerators. The insecurities. The cold beds.
Those things are real. And you cannot scream in response to them. Real life requires composure. Real life requires wisdom. Real life requires a bravery beyond what you probably have.
Real life requires courage. Demands that you keep your head down, put one foot in front of the other.
Then sometimes, life demands you look the monster in the eye. That you suppress the leaping your heart does on its approach, and then you slowly lift your face. Because what is really scary is the unknown. The unexposed. The uncertainty.
Go watch M. Night. Shyamalan's Lady in the Water. You won't like it, probably. I don't care. Watch it anyway. Watch it knowing he wrote it as a bedtime story for his children. Watch it and think about what M. Night is trying to teach you. About strength. About healing. About monsters and the way to defeat them.
Actually. Go watch Signs. And The Village. And The Sixth Sense.
They all teach the same lesson. Face your fear. Strip it of its power. Look it dead in the eye and call it for what it is. Give it a name. And regain control.
Out of the last haunted house, we marched right past all the monsters who had scared us before. Disfigured butcher came after us and I threw up my arms and said, "actually we're done, leave us alone now!" (Surprisingly, he walked away.)
Standing in the parking lot, while Mary used the port-a-pottie (which may have been the scariest part of the whole night for her) all the monsters no longer seemed as scary. As if we'd faced the worst of it. As if we'd familiarized ourselves with the fear and it had dissipated.
Our favorite zombie followed us out of the parking lot. Creepily throwing up his hands and saying, "I'm too cute to be scary!". I looked at him, looked at the end of the parking lot, and said, "The thing I worry about the most are those scary people who pretend to be your friend. And then before you get out of their reach, they scare the living hell out of you." He looked at me, painted smile turning up into a real, sneaky, toothy one.
We reached the end of that parking lot and he walked up behind me, leaned close, and growled in my ear. "Babe," I grimaced and shrugged away. "You sound like you're snoring." He jeered, "You think I have a limit -- you think there's a rule that says I have to stop right here?"
I took a step away and looked him in the eye. "No. But I just gave you my limit."
Then we ran across the street and got in the car.
Leaving all the fear behind. Leaving all the monsters in their domain. Leaving the zombie standing in the glow of the street light.
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