I am participating in Tara-Nicholle Nelson's 30 Day Writing Challenge for Conscious Leaders. Today's prompt concerned fears, longings, anxieties, desires.
Back in the spring, shortly after saying goodbye to Kristy, I sat with a friend, his arm holding me together around my shoulders, my head on his. And I asked him for his help with something. I asked him to remind me to stop being afraid to live my life.
Which maybe sounds silly. I mean, you are alive, therefore you are living. You know, your life.
But so many of my decisions in life have been motivated by fear. Fear of not fitting in. Fear of missing out (my FOMO could easily have a life of its own!) Fear of being alone. Fear of being judged. Fear of being forgotten. I won’t go on.
I remember about six months before Fella and I were to be married, I had what might have appeared to be a cold-feet moment. I had been thinking about my adult life up to that point and realized that outside of college and grad school, I had never truly lived on my own. Not without either benefactors or financing to cover the costs of living.
The FOMO got the best of me and I started looking for short-term leases with a friend. When I told Fella about it, he asked if I wanted to postpone our plans. That scared me more than the FOMO on my Real Life Sex and the Suburbs experience.
One fear outweighed the other; fear triumphed over fear. The theme is recurring.
This year, I hid from making scary life decisions. I keep hoping that the Universe will make the decision for me, or at least easy for me. But when the paradox of choice is fueled by conflicting interests--when I don’t make it easy for the Universe--it is paralyzed, too.
Which fear feels lighter than the other? Which fear can these shoulders bear?
The reality is, though, I’m juggling many fears. Because I’m afraid of what will happen if I let even one of those fears drop. Will it shatter? Will it ricochet and cause collateral damage? Can I live a life where fear is not my main motivation? Will life just get scarier? Even worse: not at all scary?!
Exhale.
My Contracts professor would weave a story from his childhood into his lectures. A shy boy, on his way home one day, carrying his prized violin, some thugs--hoodlums--bullies, preying on low hanging fruit, gave him the choice: “my money or my life. MY MONEY or MY LIFE! Given these two options, I chose the third option: I RAN!”
While I’m certainly not in the proverbial gun-to-my-head situation, I am paralyzed to choose between the two options I see before me. So I wait. I wait for that Third Option to show itself. I wait for my I RAN moment.
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