I’ve faced many demons in my lifetime. Not before running from them for a good while first, beginning in my earliest adult years and responding to the abuse of my childhood and a short-lived, unwanted teen marriage. I hid from those demons in promiscuity, misguided and unhealthy relationships, an addiction that kept me from feeling my worst fears, and other self-destructive behaviours before finally setting myself on a decades-long path of healing.

The more I ran from my demons, the more of them I found. Maybe you can relate? I hope not. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can’t in one way or another.

One of the worst demons has been Fear. It’s one nasty piece of work, isn’t it? Craziest S.O.B. you could hope to meet. Or rather, hope not to meet. I’ll tell you the longer story of my battle with Mr Crazy Pants sometime (’cause holy smoke, that rotten pinhead did a major number on me in trashing my life and my health for years, and yay! I WON!!!). But for now, I want to give you the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version because this particular demon has been the cause of, and reason for, all the others.

I should clarify: all by himself, he doesn’t scare me anymore. I’ve learned how to wipe him out in so many ways. But you see, he’s sneaky. He’s found a crack. A way in. And he’s all set to torment me again.

To be perfectly honest, I’m not really sure how I’m gonna get beat the miserable creep again. I only know that I will, if it’s the last thing I ever do.

So here’s the thing. I’ll be honest, for a good long while I’ve been hiding from my nemesis of the past 17-ish months. Yep. Straight up, being a complete coward. To cut myself a little slack, there was a good part of that time when I didn’t even have to think about the ugly jerk. He had vanished for months. It was easy to shove him into the darkest parts of my mind with all the other ugly stuff I’ve vanquished.

But then autumn rolled around. And before long, Fear was back. Yep. Quietly at first. Lurking. Teasing. And I was able to ignore him for a while.

Since he reared his ugly head a few months back, I’ve still managed to avoid him most of the time, but yesterday I had to stare him down. It was just one of countless battles that are stretched out in front of me.

“The war is on,” he sneered with a laugh. “And you ain’t never gonna win.”

Yeah. Well, we’ll see about that.

Yesterday’s battle was nothing short of terrifying. You see, he’d brought his New Bestie along to torment me. This is the thing about Fear; he delights in teaming up with something — anything — and in particular, finding your weak spots — and then he uses them to send you scurrying into dark corners all by yourself where you do your best to hide from them and the rest of the world. To hide from your life. To keep you small and under his control. And that’s no fun at all.

Just the way he likes it.

Well, nearly a year and a half ago, Fear teamed up with Ice. After carefully picking my way across hard-packed, super slippery snow to a supposedly safe piece of shovelled sidewalk, my boots met with some black ice that was hiding in a little pool of melted snow. Down I went with a loud crack! as I hit the concrete.

I had torn the quadriceps right off the bone and my kneecap was in pieces. After surgical repair, the following months were horrific for many reasons. I was facing a long and painful journey. I had no idea I would have to learn how to walk again.

I’m almost there but still need support. Although yay! A few months ago, on a couple of good days — thanks to my cane — I was able to make it down the three flights of stairs where I live, and hobble across the street to a supermarket. A major milestone. A year on, I had achieved a much-needed bit of independence again, as I live alone and am short on helping hands.

But I live in Southern Alberta. As the summer ended and autumn approached, I felt the first cold fingers of Fear and his best buddy, Ice, wrapping themselves around my throat. I knew it was just a matter of time; I would have to face these rotten bastards again. Not just once. But for the rest of my life, unless I move to a tropical place but I have no desire to do that.

I refuse to let these two rotten pinheads team up against me and win. I refuse to let them destroy my life and dictate whether I can leave my home and get out to do the things I need or want to do.

But to be honest with you, I don’t know how I’m going to get there. I admit that right now, the two of them have me firmly in their grasp. I can’t even begin to tell you how horrific the past year and a half has been and I’m not out of the woods for this whole healing and recovery thing. I can’t stand the tiniest glimpse into those earlier dark and excruciating days. The thought of sustaining another injury sends me reeling.

I’m terrified to leave my home when it’s slippery, even just to take out the rubbish. I keep my eye on weather reports, waiting for temps above freezing in hopes that the snow and ice will have melted enough that I can get to the bin and back without having to walk on slippery surfaces. It’s not that far outside my building. But it might as well be on the bloody moon.

It doesn’t help that I was being extremely careful the day I fell. And it doesn’t help that a year and a half later, I’m still healing. My knee is still massively swollen. My leg is still discoloured and bruised. I’m restricted in movement and still have a lot of pain.

The point is … immediately after my injury, I was able to avoid the rest of autumn, plus an entire winter and spring because I was physically unable to get out without help. I didn’t have to face Fear and Ice in those first several months of recovery (and here in Southern Alberta, we can get snow and ice for a good 6-8 months of the year).

But winter finally landed. There is no one to take out my rubbish and recycling. And as much as I appreciate grocery delivery and the gods of Amazon to see to the essentials in my shopping needs, I want my independence back.

Unless I beat the hell out of Fear and Ice, they’ll hold me hostage in my home. And here’s The Thing: They can only do it if I let them.

I’m not giving up my life for them. I’m not handing over my happiness on a platter to those soul-destroying beasts.

Hell, I used to walk miles at a time in icy conditions. Even in my high-heeled shoes on the way to and from work when I couldn’t afford boots as a single mum years ago. Never gave “slipping” a thought.

So yesterday, I stared down these terrifying tricksters. I’d made shortbread cookies and I wanted to take some to the ladies who work in the management office here. But it’s across the driveway from me. That meant this was between me and them:

I can’t even tell you how frightened I was. I paused and stared at the ice and snow. Although I need my cane because I’m unsteady on my feet, I knew it wouldn’t prevent me falling if I slipped. In fact, it might even make it more likely. The cane could slip and take me down with it.

My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my chest. Adrenalin flooded through my veins. I began to tremble. A wave of nausea rolled through my entire body and for a moment, I thought I would be sick.

I stared at that little bit of icy road as if it were Evil Incarnate. Utterly terrified, a few fearful tears stung my eyes. My chest was tight; was I even breathing? I wasn’t sure.

I thought about turning back. I didn’t really have to face Fear and Ice right then, in that moment, did ? I could wait for another day. Maybe when I’ve healed a bit more. Maybe when I have less pain and I’m steadier on my feet. Maybe when I’m no longer haunted by the terrible memories of the past year and a half. Maybe when I’m 198 years old. Oh, wait, maybe when Hell freezes over …

Damn it. Nope. NO. You’re not going to win, you lousy bastards!

I drew in a deep breath. I took my first tiny, hesitant step, careful about where I placed my boot, well aware that I was wearing the same boots the day I slipped and altered the course of my life.

Anxiety fought hard to become panic, and it might have succeeded if that little stretch of road had been much longer. But I managed to talk myself through one tiny step at a time until finally, I got to the pavement on the other side. I fought back tears of relief, and quickly remembered I wasn’t done yet. I still had to get back home.

I delivered the cookies to the office ladies and told them that this had been my first time facing the ice alone since my injury. I said how terrified I was. One of them was so sweet; she offered to get her coat and help me across the road.

I thanked her for her kindness, and declined, adding that I have to face this at some point. I can’t live in Alberta and avoid snow and ice — not unless I’m willing to let Fear hold me hostage and keep me trapped in my home. Again. I’ve suffered from anxiety disorders and agoraphobia in the past.

I will never, ever go there again. No matter what.

I left the office, feeling the tiniest hint of “maybe I can do this” as I faced the road again. But I crossed in a different place. On the other side, there was a stretch of about 4 feet of solid ice. Jeez, Louise … I did my best to work my way around it, finding smaller patches and finally made it back to safety.

Can I say I kicked Fear’s @$$ and I’m good to go next time?

Not on your life.

But I did show it who’s boss. I’m set to do battle with this S.O.B. and although I’ve declared war and I’m determined to win, I’m also mindful of my physical limitations and challenges right now. I’m not going to be stupid about it. I must still respect Ice and the fact that I’m still having trouble walking on safe, flat surfaces, including in my own home.

As much as I want to stare down Fear as I’ve done so many times before, and kick his @$$ to the curb, I can’t let my determination and tenacity be my undoing. Um, it wouldn’t be the first time. 🙄

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Spiritual Arts Mentor and Master Teacher, Liberty Forrest, guides you in discovering who you are, why you’re here, and how to follow that path.