What do you do when you are scared? Do you face your fears head on? Or do you run for the hills?
One of my boys has always been scared of getting shots. He used to work himself up over them weeks before they happened. So one year we decided not to tell him until we arrived at the store that we were all getting the annual flu shot.
Did that choice backfire!
Even now, years later, he chooses to remind me at random times how betrayed he felt in that moment: “Now a part of me always wonders if we are just going shopping as a family or we are going to the store to get a shot.” This child has a particularly effective way of adding to the pile of my long-term mom guilt!
We’ve used many strategies over the years to help neutralize his fears, from bringing ice packs from home so he could numb his arms to videotaping him afterwards saying it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, so he could watch the video in preparation for next time. Still the fear has persisted.
This year for his annual physical, however, my son took it upon himself to make a plan. The week before he asked his classmates what shots, if any, they got at their annual appointments. Then he compiled the data and concluded it would be two shots this year. On the way to the office, he told us his carefully concocted plan: “First, I’m going to ask the nurse if she has a coworker that can join her. Next, I am going to insist they give the shots at exactly the same time in both of my arms. Finally, I’m walking straight to the waiting room, and the rest of you can join me when ready.” His focused demeanor made me want to hug him tight and chuckle a little at the same time.
When we got to the doctor’s office, he repeated the plan in the waiting room and then again to the nurse in the patient room. Twice. “You will grab a friend to help you when it’s time, correct?” asking her to verify just once more for good measure.
Finally, when the time came, my son got up on the table and sat with his arms relaxed at his sides and his eyes closed. I smiled at his sweet face before my own eyes drifted down to his hands. I noticed then that he was gently pressing each forefinger and thumb together in time with his breathing, as one might do while meditating.
“Breathe in. Breathe out. It will be OK,” he whispered the words like a tiny prayer.
This serene and composed image of my son facing one of his worst fears head on has stayed with me. It is now the image I bring to mind each time I get anxious or scared about something. When I want to run for the hills instead of facing my fear, I imagine my sweet boy’s thumb and index fingers gently pressing together in time with his breath.
Then I repeat his simple prayer: “Breathe in. Breathe out. Lord, remind me it will be OK.”
Photo by Vinit Vispute on Unsplash.