We show up scared
"I think we're all scared. We're just afraid to talk about it."
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Last time we talked about what happened when Chaos got a new name tag. My Chaos has been labeled an anxiety and panic disorder for years. I learned the ins and outs of her personality and honestly, we’ve become friends. It’s the kind of friend that I randomly want to block but still, I think I get her. I understand her journey — why she is the way she is.
Then my brother suddenly died.
Grief has a terrible way of taking everything you thought was stable and mangling it until it’s unrecognizable. I’ll continue to pull the thread on grief with you all as we journey forward, but for today, know that grief upended my family of origin something fierce.
We started talking about things we’d held back. We examined our relationships differently. We knew intimately how quickly life could end and this changed everything about how we viewed our lives moving forward. Were we the people we wanted to be? How could our relationships be stronger and more honest? It’s been a season of thread-pulling on a level I did not see coming.
When I was in college, my three siblings were diagnosed with Attention-Deficit-Hyperactivity-Disorder (ADHD).
I didn’t understand their world and we didn’t talk about it much. I understood they got distracted and struggled to focus sometimes. That was about it. I was the one in the family with explicit anxiety so that became my thing, I guess.
Fast forward to this past spring and my brother started taking medication for his ADHD and experienced life-changing effects. The transformation in him so soon after losing our brother was jarring. It was stunning to watch while experiencing deep grief. Every conversation felt like I was meeting my brother for the first time. In a way, I was. He transformed before our eyes.
A month or two later, my sister started medication for her ADHD, after walking with her daughter through her own ADHD diagnosis and treatment plans. She experienced positive outcomes and the story of our family’s growth continued.
I had plenty on my plate this summer as a first time stay-at-home-mom to my kids after a decade of working in the church. I carved out space for healing from a job change, identity shift, grief, and preparing for new adventures ahead.
In early August, I found myself sitting on the couch next to my brother during a family vacation in South Carolina. Somehow the topic of work habits came up and I shared a small anecdote of how I organize my tasks. Ryan leaned over and said, “You know that’s an ADHD thing, right?” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I offered a few other examples and he grinned. “Jenny, that’s ADHD. Maybe you have it too.”
A little while later, I excused myself and crawled into bed with my phone and took a few ADHD assessments.
I scored off the charts for ADHD.
What?!
I have anxiety. I’m super organized. I get places on time. I’m not scattered. I don’t lose stuff. I did well in school. I have anxiety. That’s my thing. No. No. No. I do not have ADHD.
Let’s pause and break down this moment.
I’m on the verge of seeing a potentially massive blind spot in my life that’s lasted forty years. This could go a number of ways. Straight up denial sounded fair. Anger. Rage. Confusion. I’ve stumbled into another knot asking to be untangled a bit.
I have a choice.
So do you.
There are moments that arrive in our lives, often unannounced, that offer an invitation. We call this writing space The Thread, so let’s practice unraveling some knots.
We’ve each got one. Something asking to be explored with love and patience. Something inviting us a little deeper into our lives. Something we know we’re not dealing with very well.
We have a choice.
We either turn our backs in fear or we lean in with curiosity.
We either keep clinging to the story we’ve built about our lives or we open our hands and allow a new truth to exist.
We either run away scared or we show up scared.
Here’s the honest truth. We’re going to be scared either way.
As someone who is determined to show up to the one life I get to live, let me be a gentle voice from the other side that whispers, "It’s okay to show up scared. I think we’re all scared. We’re just too afraid to talk about it.”
Maybe this can be a place where you sense it’s safe enough to talk about it. Or think about it.
Because, dear readers, I don’t have a ton of expertise in a million areas. I can’t tell you the next right or wrong thing to do in your life. I can’t fix the hard realities of your current story. Hell, I can’t tell you what to make for dinner tonight.
But I do know this: It is terrifying to pull the tangled strings in our lives. That knot is weird and scary and unknown. We’ve created entire worlds to live in so we can avoid pulling that knot. But when you choose to show up scared and tug that thread peeking out, what meets you on the other side is absolutely beautiful. It’s stunning.
It’s you.
Your whole self.
It’s Love. Peace. Spaciousness. Truth. Healing.
That’s why we are people who do hard things. We talk about our fear. We take cautious shaky steps into the things that scare us the most. It’s where our freedom is waiting.
The one thing I can promise? I’ll go first.
After years of journeying into the scariest places of my inner world, I trust the rhythm. The fear — the dying — the rising. It’s never failed me. And it won’t fail you.
Let’s do this work together, my dear reader.
Next time I’ll unravel what happened after I took those lovely online assessments in the middle of that August evening.
My Chaos is about to get another name tag. Maybe the name she had all along.