NOTE: this was a class assignment that called for a piece of creative nonfiction that referenced an actual life experience. its lengthy but i like it. enjoy.
I can’t begin to say that in my twenty-one years of life experience that I’ve discovered the essential truths of life. I don’t have any inkling why things of the heart are always unpredictable and overwhelmingly uncertain. But I do know this: Fears, irrational fears at that, are just as uncertain and unpredictable as the matters of the heart, like love and infatuation. Our response to love and fear, physical and otherwise, are as different as they are alike.
I am afraid of roaches. As long as I can remember this has been the case. Why? They can’t cause me much, if any, physical harm. They aren’t going to eat me or attack me. But whenever I see one crawling creepily across the floor or God forbid up the wall, my first instinct is to run away.
When I was about eleven or twelve, I had a sleepover at my house. My sister and I, who are very close in age, each had a friend over to spend the night at our home. We were watching a movie or television, I can’t remember what, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the familiar infamous black shape moving creepily along the wood paneled wall of our family room. Even though for me at least, there’s a certain degree of shame that comes with admitting that my home is susceptible to the vileness that is a roach, and even though there were two outsiders witnessing firsthand my shame, I quickly darted away from the wicked intruder and called out to my dad for rescue. My heart rate increased and the first hint of sweat tingled across my forehead. By the time I had barricaded myself behind the couch, the other girls succumbed to the irrational screeching and shying away from the insect like many girls do. My dad, whose attention was elsewhere, called to me from the next room and said simply, “Well, kill it.” I replied, “No, I can’t! I’m afraid of it!” Again, fear comes into the picture. In the few minutes that this encounter lasted I fought a mental battle. The instincts to put as much space between me and the threat and not wanting to lose sight of it kept me pinned in my hiding place with my eyes wide open following its every move.
What does this show? My irrational fear led me to not only distance myself from the danger but also to hide with my eyes still transfixed on the threat. Even though I wanted to run, I was pinned there by that conflicting desire to know what was going to happen. I wanted to hold on to some semblance of control in the situation. Instead of giving that roach the satisfaction of scaring me away completely, it was me, after all, that called out to the one who would eventually end its short life. Am I then the conqueror of this creature? Or by my delegation am I just weak? Is this situation, this feeling of fear and of wanting to escape but not being able to fully get away, different from any other reaction to an irrational emotion? This phenomenon is not limited only to fear. This same reaction happens when someone is heartbroken. Immediately following the demise of any relationship both parties are hyper aware of the other’s absence. That routine that was once established is thrown off course leaving you feeling unbalanced and vulnerable. And then inevitably there’s the first time the two run into each other accidentally in the hallways or in the grocery store and there again is that inability to escape completely. Even though in most cases at least one party is hoping to avoid the encounter, they are both drawn to each other if only by curiosity to get over that first awkward meeting since their downfall. Once you see the other person from across the room there’s that inner monologue that asks, “Did he see me? What should I say? Do I say anything? Do I look cute? Is he seeing someone else? Why didn’t I wear that cute dress today?” And that internal struggle persists right up until the point that the two finally meet.
Irrational behavior plagues us all at some point or another. Often times, several times a day. Why is it that the boy who ignores you is the one you fall for hopelessly? Why is it that a tiny, non-threatening, bug can make you run away? Most of our most meaningful experiences are often times initiated by irrational emotional responses. This irrationality that is such a foundational part of a human’s being is not however bad or detrimental. This inherent tendency toward the irrational gives clarity to our rational thoughts and individuality to our lives. If we didn’t understand that most of the responses we have that cause an overwhelming amount of emotional response, like fear and love, we couldn’t recognize the things that are significantly less important. This contrast is essential in the understanding we have of ourselves. If we are able to recognize that many of our desires and fears are irrational and still we pursue or run from them, what does that say about the human race? We humans pride ourselves on our ability to think rationally. Our minds are capable of higher order thinking and critical thinking but instead the roots of many decisions we make are not divined through our reasonable and rational minds. There are even times when the brain can rationally see that one course of action is the most logical and rational choice yet still consciously chooses not to follow that path.
I run away from roaches. Even as a twenty-one year old who, through the educational system, has been trained to evaluate and think critically, I still literally run away from roaches. To this day I have never killed one of these pests and the only reason for it is that my irrational fear mandates that my body and my mind respond accordingly. I like to pride myself on my rational capabilities. It is for my critical thinking skills that I have received recognition over the years, but what I fail to see objectively is just how irrationally I behave.
That cliché phrase, “The heart wants what it wants,” is just a romantic way of describing the irrational nature of one of life’s most written about, discussed, and felt emotions: love. Even when we sensibly know that that desire will only lead to pain, we take it anyway in the hope that our reason will prove faulty somewhere down the road. Why do we delude ourselves into thinking that our reasoning, which we spend years and years trying to hone and make more precise, is wrong in only certain situations? Why do we give ourselves a break on this? These choices are some of the most significant choices we will make in our lives. What sense does it make to intentionally choose the option that you know for certain, will lead to pain?
To answer these questions you have to first answer this question: is pain the absolute worst consequence? If you can examine the situation and the choices are eventual pain and avoiding a potentially life changing experience simply to avoid pain, is it logical to only avoid pain?
This kind of reasoning seems to be purely a justification for irrational behavior instead of actually examining the situation critically. This justification leads us to make the choice we wanted to make the first place. How is it possible to examine the same set of data and come up with two logical answers and have them both be correct? Doesn’t that go against the concept of critical thinking? Shouldn’t critical thinking lead to only one answer that is most correct?
This leads to me to believe that even though our lives are full of situations that make us want to behave irrationally we should try and get the best possible experience out of whatever choice we make. There are definitely some instances where it is easy to see that overcoming the irrational desires will lead to a better outcome in the long run like overcoming my fear of roaches and being able to confidently squash one. But for those bigger more important life-changing experiences, like love, it is important to take the risks that the irrational desires demand. Can this lead to pain? Absolutely! However, there are much more devastating consequences than pain.
Maybe my reasoning is flawed. Perhaps my confidence in my rational mind is inflated with pride and vanity and youthful ignorance. However, I refuse to give up on the fact that love or even those first inklings of affection and infatuation that may grow into love should be avoided on the premise that they might lead to pain. Isn’t that the right choice? Doesn’t that make the most sense?
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