What if the fear of being ridiculed is a ghost?

Stockholm early 1980s.
My Mother and her friend looks at each other, after I have said something.

They burst into a laughter that is a bit stifled, like they understand that their laughter risks to sadden me, but which they don’t have the strength to put down. And I know that if they look at each other for long, their laughter will be big in volume, it’s like they have no means to stop it from happen.

And I sit there, in silence, blushing, and wishing I had a button to beam me away from this situation.

It’s like everything I say is something to laugh at, like they have found the secret code to decipher what I say, and make my simple statements or thoughts to something else. And in my body and in my mind there is so much going on.

I feel naked. I feel misunderstood. I feel judged. And I think they are mean towards me. And it’s like I have nothing to defend me with. What ever I say make it worse.

And often they comment on what I say, before I have even finished a sentence.

– Charlotte, you are a typical cancer…

And then laughing out loudly.

And there is this ancient episode:

Munkors, Värmland, Sweden, 1960s
I want to show Mum that I am a fast learner. She has told me to put a piece of paper on the toilet set to protect one self from bacteria. She learned me that when we were at a public restaurant. And now I am eight years old, and we are, for the first time, having dinner in the local dentists home. And I am eager to show Mum what I’ve learned.

So I ask her if I should put a piece of toilet paper on the seat. And as I ask the question, I know that it’s totally wrong. Of course not here, among friends. And I see that answer in Mums face, and I also see her laughter bubbling up… and it’s her mimic that tells me that.

And for my inner eye, I see how Mum goes out into the dining room, telling about my question to the other grown ups. And I imagine how they will laugh at me. And just by this rapid thought I get cold sweet, and I say to Mum:

– Mum, promise me not to tell the others about my question.
– I promise.

And then I sit in the bathroom, I start to pee. And then I hear 6-8 people laughing out loud. And I know that my Mother has, from my perspective, betrayed me. And I stay as long as I can in the bathroom. Another ”beam me up Scotty”-moment. And when leaving the room it feels like I am on the death row, walking towards my own execution.

And this feeling of devastation still lingers somewhere in me. I still feel very uncomfortable when being laughed at. And sometimes paired with a sense of betrayal.

In that is a defenselessness - how could I protect myself from being judged, ridiculed in this way? I don’t know. My only defense is the Ice-princess. To pretend their laugh doesn’t bother me. And I don’t shed a tear, because that would feed their laughter even more… and when in that mode of feeling pushed down, I also sense sadism in the laughter.

And still it happens that I get kidnapped by my primal brain (fight, flight, playing dead) and my amygdala immediately tell me to use one of the primary reactions… And I most often choose the playing dead strategy, and sometimes, if my anger is awakened I fight, and if it feels unbearable I flee.

When I have shared these experiences with my Mother, she often says:

– I didn’t do these things to be mean, you were so cute, I couldn’t stop myself.

And of course I can see that a sweet child who wants to ”do the right thing”, can be seen as cute. And still it is, to me, a betrayal, to promise something, and then, immediately break the promise. (And I guess my trust-issues comes from experiences like this one).

(This taught me to ask my children if I could tell about something they had done, and also respect the no I sometimes got, not to bringing on this pattern to them).

In the 1980s, my Mother was in a vulnerable situation, and I can understand the mechanisms of laughing at someone together with a friend. I can understand that. And I can forgive.

And still, even if I forgive, there is still this fear of being ridiculed, which is the main obstacle from living a fearless life. And I can actually see that this fear has lessened over the years. Maybe I fear a ghost, when it comes to being ridiculed?

I actually think so… and I am so much more brave than I was some 20 years ago. And I think that the clarity on this particular fear is helpful, it’s like it loses some of its power.