Trembling Lips
For me, power is one of those slippery words that’s hard to get my mind around. In my imagination, it rises up like an amorphous blob out of a cess pool of something, I don’t know what. It colors the sky with whatever color the power happens to be, hiding my own color, overshadowing my own being, “powering” me out of existence. I am very small in the face of power; it’s easier to hide and disappear than to exist in its wake.
Art Credit: Earth Power II by Favianna Rodriguez
Fear of Power
Okay. To be honest, that paragraph does not describe me now, but it describes me long ago. It could have been lifted from my journal 40 years ago or from my very real fears that began to surface 60 or more years ago.
I’m walking down the hall of my high school, heading toward my locker. I pass a boy who says something nice to me. When I try to open my mouth to respond, my lips begin to tremble. I’d rather die than let him see this physical manifestation of my debilitating fear, so I keep walking. (He’s cute, he’s cool, I’m nothing.)
I’m scheduled to share an idea with my principal in her office. As a new teacher, I have to build my credibility. I know this idea inside and out, and I know what I want to say. As I open my mouth, my lips begin to tremble so I cough and turn my head away. I take a minute to regroup before I go further. My presentation is weak because I’m as frightened as a church mouse, struggling to keep my face focused. (She’s commanding, she’s formidable, I’m at her mercy.)
The Body Keeps the Score*
When I was in the presence of someone whom I perceived held power over me, my lips trembled. So on top of the fear was the shame that my fear was revealed. I couldn’t trust my body to protect me by hiding my weakness; in fact, my body deceived me so that everyone knew I was defective. I became a toxically shy adolescent who never dated and a professional adult who avoided relationships with potential mentors. The body keeps the score, indeed.
Paradox
As I was rising in the ranks professionally, I was also decompensating and struggling with memory fragments, parts, triggers, and more. Those two paradoxical aspects of my life began to shed light on my fear of power. Perhaps my existential need to keep going helped too. Both boys in my adolescence and authority figures in my adulthood held power over me. Since all my experience with power in childhood had been abusive and destructive, power could only be bad. By implication, that meant boys and authority figures would hurt me.
Becoming Authority
In the meantime, my professional life led me to become the authority. Looking back, I didn’t realize I was choosing that path in order to heal. I thought I was doing it because I was good at it or to increase my financial security. But becoming authority helped me grow through my fears. Yes, I had power. Yes, I was expected use that power over other people. But, yes, I could also use that power judiciously, collaboratively, and with good intentions. Transforming the power that was given to me from bad to good, by virtue of my role as authority, was life altering. No, I didn’t need to be afraid of power anymore.
Owning Power
Most important, I became my own authority and claimed my own power. Rather than obsessing over how others may have power over me, I tamed the amorphous blob and turned, instead, to the goodness all around me, if I really look for it. I discovered that power, in and of itself, is not bad, it just “is.” It’s how we use power that makes the difference.
Power’s impact is different depending on the people who are wielding it, but I am no longer afraid of it. Much power and authority is benign and helpful. Yet, tragically, power may still be used in abusive and destructive ways. I am grateful that I can now stand up against the harmful use of power, when appropriate. Best of all, I can do so without trembling lips.
* The Body Keeps the Score is the name of a very helpful book about trauma and trauma healing by Bessel van der Kolk.
Memoir 101
Our annual Fall class on Beginners Memoir 101 is accepting registrations. Bonnie Armstrong, author of An Apparently Normal Person, and I will be teaching the class. To register, you can click here, or register through Heartbeat if you’re a Dissociative Writers subscriber. For more information on the class or on individual memoir coaching, email me here.
🕊️
Never forget that the most powerful force on earth is love.
~ Nelson Rockefeller