Fear

I'm afraid of very many things.

Spiders, thunderstorms, broken hearts, reading my own writing out loud, scary movies. Like a little girl, I scream; I cry. I shake and shiver in my shoes as the prickles move up and down my arms, my palms start to sweat.

When I know I have to read my writing out loud in front of people, I almost always throw up. And I'm stuck in the dread of waiting waiting waiting waiting and then trying to steady my breath, my voice into a normal sound to read the words that are writtentypedscrawled across the page and then deal with the shaking after I've finished.

(Why are you afraid?)

I fear. I fear many things. I fear much of the time. But why? What is it that makes me paralyzed, stricken, stuck to my spot? What creates the stasis, keeps me from chasing down my dreams with every single breath left in my body?

Is it a fear of failing? We learn best from mistakes, so why shouldn't I want to strengthen myself in trying.

Is it a fear of flying? There's not always shame in running away, in cutting your losses and calling it quits.

I don't know. I don't know why I'm afraid. But at every turn, I feel the panicky awful thoughts creeping into my head that I'm running out of time for this and that and that the chances are passing me by to go here and see that and kiss that stranger. Sometimes, I'm even afraid to be happy. It's like I didn't do anything to deserve the moments and blessings and bounty of incredible people I'm surrounded by. I'm afraid to take a chance on this or that because I'm afraid of feeling the way having my whole life turned topsy turvy felt like again.

I'm fearful of fear itself. Fear is dangerous. It holds you back and all I want to do is run run run and fly and go everywhere and do everything and meet everyone. A year and a half ago, I didn't want anything. And then everything changed and now I'm this girl that wants everything. I want the world and I want to be incredible. How can you be incredible when you are afraid?

And mostly though, I'm afraid I'll never figure out happily ever after. Perhaps I'll buy the last dogeared marginaliad copy of Crime and Punishment at the wrong bookstore instead of the one where I was supposed to bump casually into the man of my dreams. Maybe I'll never see the world. Maybe I won't finish my collection of essays or ever have it published. Maybe I'll be stuck in a dead end job, maybe I'll never know exactly how it is that I'm supposed to do great things. And I think that's terrifying. I'm terrified of losing sight of my dreams, my big, lofty dreams and my tiny pleasures and goals and lists. I'm terrified that I won't be able to make it around the world and write about everything that crosses my path. I'm terrified I'll get my heart crushed into a million pieces again. I'm afraid I'll never be comfortable in my body; that I'll never feel as beautiful as you made me feel a really long time ago. I'm afraid I will never figure out how to let all of it go. I'm afraid I won't be able to tell this person how I'm feeling. I'm afraid of being vulnerable, of letting people too far into my deepest and darkest corners of my heart. I'm afraid of where honesty gets you and I'm afraid I've been pretending I'm ok for so long that I'm not going to actually know when I finally am.

I know you can't let fear rule you. And so I try. I make myself move, I dare myself. I smile, listen to too much Katy Perry, consult mantras and happy people and try to just fight back against being scared.

Unless there's a thunderstorm and then I'm under covers, hiding.

Until I figure out how to be fearless, like I'd like to be.