In attempting to address my daughter’s fears, I quickly realized that logic is often ineffective when it comes to a child’s anxieties. Reasoning with her was a fruitless endeavor; fear is not easily swayed by rational arguments. Instead, I decided to tap into my own childhood memories to better empathize with her.
At her age, I harbored a deep-seated fear of bears. I was convinced that a bear would somehow break into our home in suburban Maplewood, and I would find myself face-to-face with a massive bear head looming over my top bunk. The fact that bears had never been spotted in our neighborhood didn’t quell my imagination. They were out there, lurking alongside the moving mannequins. The absurdity of how a bear could open a door without opposable thumbs did little to alleviate my primal fear.
As I grew older, a simpler fear took hold—one involving a pendulum clock in our kitchen. It wasn’t an imposing grandfather clock, but rather a modest wall clock. At night, lying in bed, I felt certain that the ticking was growing louder, creeping closer. I never questioned how a mere clock could pose a threat, though perhaps it represented my subconscious realization that time, indeed, marches on towards the inevitable end.
My daughter’s fears mirror my own from that time—specific and vivid. The mannequin is moving. The clock is approaching. Bears possess a key to our house. These fears are palpable.
As an adult, I grapple with my own concerns. Will a bank error suddenly render us homeless? Is there a faceless corporation plotting against me? And how on earth will I manage to fund the weddings and education of my three daughters? While not a fear, it’s more of a looming reality.
A friend of mine has a unique set of worries—he’s genuinely anxious about space debris falling from the sky. He’s also obsessed with the West Nile Virus, applying bug spray incessantly, despite rarely venturing outdoors. His fears are very real to him, just as my apprehension about large corporations feels valid, regardless of how many benign interactions I’ve had.
Perhaps fears are a constant in life; some recede while others emerge. I no longer worry about bears prowling my home—unless they’re disguised as loan officers in corporate blazers. Digital clocks have replaced my pendulum fears.
It seems that a certain level of fear keeps us vigilant, harkening back to our ancestors’ fight-or-flight instincts. Rather than using reasoning, I chose to acknowledge my daughter’s anxiety and take a lighthearted approach to alleviate it. With the help of her older sister, we dressed the mannequin in a ridiculous outfit—complete with scarves, a princess dress, and comical glasses. The transformation made my daughter laugh, helping her view the mannequin in a new light.
For several nights afterward, she would seek out the mannequin and smile upon seeing it. Mission accomplished—until last night, when I heard her cry from down the hall: “Mommy! Daddy! I hear scratchy noises from my closet.”
Don’t worry, sweetie; it’s probably just a bear.
This article was originally published on July 20, 2015. For more information on the importance of addressing fears, check out this post on our privacy policy. If you’re exploring at-home options, consider visiting this site for an excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
The article discusses the author’s experience with childhood fears, drawing parallels between his past anxieties and those of his daughter. By recognizing the irrational nature of these fears, he offers a lighthearted solution to help his daughter overcome her fear of a mannequin. The narrative highlights the persistence of fears into adulthood and the importance of addressing them in a supportive manner.