Let's keep this brief, part I.
Fear is a showcase.
You're afraid. Don't ask me of what, but you are. We all are. I know people who are so afraid of certain things, it clouds their otherwise-solid faculties and makes them do things that, in the cold light of day, they are not proud of, or at least know they shouldn't be. Fear grips the brain like Wilt grabbing a rebound; there's no slapping sound, to my knowledge, but the feel, the steely grip, seems to surround you. There's no release (unlike Wilt's outlet passes) until you beat the fear back, and then there's a flush of red heat as your shame and anger come flooding in. Sometimes that's worse than the fear itself; that anger, that epinephrin flow subverting any apology for hasty action or perilous inertia, can be the most memorable part of the moment. (Anger is something I'll discuss at another time. Trust me.)
Fear kills, sometimes. It finds friendships sleeping, and makes an abattoir of sacred trusts that would make Ed Gein nauseous. It takes marriages and other commitments unawares, uses cheap ire's power tools to vivisect faith, until the walls are covered in the gore of regret. That's assuming you get your left brain back in time, and can actually regret what your cowardice has made you do. Otherwise, you just leave a trail of carnage that you never see. What's worse than that?
I have always prided myself on my ability to reason my way out of most tense situations. Certainly, I possess certain physical advantages that give others pause, and during that break from hostilities, I try to find a common bond, exploit the shared tension to relieve the pressure. I have a lot of pride, in that respect; I haven't needed to engage in a physical confrontation in over a decade. I'm trying to reason away my insecurities now, and I am having an amazing degree of difficulty. That's going to make me do stupid things, frightened things...but I know it. Call this navel-gazing, but I think that will help.
All fear is of the unknown. Fear's first words, a husky whisper in the ear of an ordinarily-sensible person, are "what if?"
That whisper gets louder if you keep listening to it long enough...finally, it's a pandering scream, a plea for hasty and often ill-advised action. It picks apart the fight-or-flight reaction, almost always rooting for flight like a deranged Cowboys fan. It can be deafening; my own ears are still ringing from all of its recent advice, none of which is very good. Fear is not an intellectual exercise; it is a state where the intellect has been carjacked, where faith and hope are trying valiantly to restore control against diminishing odds. The more things you're afraid of, the longer the ride home (if you even have a sense of home left after the desperate, reprehensible behaviors that this icy stranglehold encourages).
I've been very afraid of a lot of things for a very long time, and it has definitely caused some damage. I'm not saying I'm all better (not even close), but I think I have a much firmer grip on myself as of this writing. I've had some help from some very unexpected sources lately, but that's a rant for another time.
More later.