Ron's Blog

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” —Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Sometimes, I think we should update President Roosevelt’s quote to say, “The only thing we have to fear is our messed up minds!” For example…

A few days ago, I was lost in a daydream. Has this every happened to you? You’re busy working on something and then you gaze out the window and wonder what it must be like to be Taylor Swift or LeBron James. You imagine yourself singing in front of a sold-out crowd at Madison Square Garden or scoring forty points against the best basketball players in the world. Before you know it, the sun has set and you’ve lost hours of work.

Well, something similar happened to me, but I wasn’t fantasizing about Taylor Swift or LeBron James. Weirdly, I was thinking about fighting a cobra. The truth is, I don’t like snakes. So, since my subconscious mind knows that I don’t like snakes, I suspect that it enjoys torturing me by inventing imaginary snake scenarios in my head. That’s probably why I’ve had hundreds of snake nightmares over the course of my life. However, this is the first time I’ve had a snake daymare. It makes me wonder if the same subconscious mechanism is also responsible for creating those recurring images of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders in my mind? Perhaps that’s a different issue.

Anyway, I had this clear vision of a large snake on the ground in front of me while I bobbed and weaved, trying to keep it from biting me. Then, all of the sudden, it lunged towards me—in my mind. At that instant, my arm actually shot across my body as if to block the snake. In other words, the entire experience was not real and yet my body reacted as if it was real.

While some might suggest that I talk to a therapist about these frequent thoughts of snakes and Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, the experience was a vivid reminder of how powerful the mind can be. Simple neural signals convince us of a reality that is not really real. For instance…

The first time I got an MRI was thirty years ago. I had experienced several months of neck discomfort and my doctor ordered the MRI to explore the cause of the pain. After a decade of working in the healthcare industry, I knew about MRIs and was aware that the “tube” in which patients are inserted is pretty tight. But, I didn’t really understand this concept—until they slid me into the machine. Initially, I had closed my eyes to help me relax. But then I made the mistake of opening them. Once I did, I discovered that the edge of the MRI tube was nearly touching my nose. On top of that, it was nearly touching every other part of my body. It was like being the meat inside a sausage casing. In other words, it was T-I-G-H-T.

As an aside, a friend of mine used to explore uncharted cave passages. She and her husband were part of a team that mapped out extensions of caves that had not yet been investigated. She told me that one time, they were pursuing a potential connection between two very large caves. They crawled into a tunnel that was so tight, they had to extend their arms and propel themselves with the tips of their toes. I’m not sure of the exact words I used in response to her story but I think it was along the lines of, “OH…HELL…NO” In fact, I almost had an anxiety attack just thinking about being in a space so tight I had to propel myself with the tips of my toes. Suffice it to say that I’m not fond of confined spaces.

Anyway, back to my MRI. When I opened my eyes inside the machine, my mind began to mess with me once again. But this time, it wasn’t sending thoughts of snakes or the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. Instead, it planted the idea that I would no longer be able to move my arms or legs and that I was going to be trapped in this tube forever. And worse, before I could be rescued, I would deplete all the usable air around me. I know this sounds ridiculous. But my brain is pretty convincing. In response, I immediately felt an increase in my heart rate and my breathing became more rapid. Within a few seconds, one of the MRI technicians said, “Mr. Culberson, are you OK? You seem to be panting.” Apparently my breathing was not only fast but also loud.

Without hesitation, I told her to get me out of the MRI tube or I was going to have to propel myself out with the tips of my toes. I don’t think she understood that reference. But she did hit the release button and the table slid me back out into the safety of a spacious room where the the air was plentiful and the walls were a very comfortable distance from my nose. 

The technician asked me if I needed valium. While the idea of instant relaxation did appeal to me, my ego could not accept the suggestion that I needed drugs to survive a simple, non-invasive medical procedure. But I definitely needed a mental reset before I went back. So, I asked her to give me a minute to calm down. I took a few deep breaths, smacked myself in the face, and closed my eyes. I was ready to be reinserted.

For the remainder of the scan, I did not open my eyes. That way, I could only imagine how far the edge of the tube was from my nose. I was still a bit anxious but I was able to complete the procedure without any further complications. But again, this was a reminder of my daily struggle to deal with an overactive mind.

Let’s be honest. There are some scary, unpleasant things in our world. However, I would venture to guess that most of our fears come from a mental process during which we imagine something that may not be real. Instead, it is simply an overdose of the “what if’s”. And it’s all conjecture.

But fear not. Most likely, we will never get stuck in an MRI machine, caught in the tight tunnel of a cave, or attacked by a cobra. But even if we do, the imagination of the experience is probably a lot worse than the actual experience. So, to alter President Roosevelt’s sentiment, the greatest thing we have to fear is the fear that our fearful mind creates which is often much more fearful than the actual thing we fear. 

Or something like that.