My goal for this blog is to post at least once a week on Sunday night or Monday morning. Consistency has never been a strength of mine and posting weekly would build that muscle, so to speak. The number of posts may grow at a later date, but for now, posting once a week would be quite the step forward personally. Small and simple.  

I was unable to write before Sunday night/Monday morning because…life. That was fine. I thought I’d push it back to Tuesday, not the strict guideline, but still meeting my weekly post goal. Well, Tuesday came and went and I did nothing. Why? I was suddenly very, very tired. I told myself to try for Wednesday. After all, I needed some sleep. It would be better to post when I was fresh, right? That is how I rationalized it to myself anyway. So went the rest of the week. Until this weekend, when the self-recrimination kicked in. Oh yes. When the you-cannot-even-post-two-weeks-in-a-row-you-are-a-failure-already thoughts started, I finally clued into what was happening. The scared part of me doesn’t want to push past the limit of the comfort zone of mediocrity I have long occupied and was making her opinion known. 

Fear is a curious creature. Being scared seems straightforward enough. If you are scared of something, then you know it. If you are scared of spiders or roaches or snakes, you know. Scared of small spaces? You know. In those cases, a person recognizes their fears and then avoids them or minimizes them as much as possible. However, what if fear doesn’t always work that way or look that way?

I didn’t realize I had a fear of heights until I went ziplining. The higher the group went up into the trees, the more panicked I became; the more my brain kept trying to convince me that I was enjoying myself. Look at what fun you are having! It wasn’t until I internally shouted back at my brain and told it I was most definitely NOT having fun that the fear quieted. It wasn’t until I acknowledged my discomfort and anxiety that the fear hushed up. 

About halfway through the ziplining course, I had the option of turning back or continuing forward. It would have roughly been the same distance to either the starting point or the finishing point. I heavily considered turning back. I knew what was back there. I knew what to expect and was familiar with that portion of the course. On the other hand, if I chose to keep going forward, I would have to experience new areas. Some of those areas might be higher than the level I was currently on. What if I couldn’t do it? What if I had a breakdown in front of these people I’ve never seen before and would (in all likelihood) never see again? Oh, the embarrassment, the shame of hyperventilating in front of strangers because the panic was overwhelming. It sounds silly written out like that, but those were the concerns I had at that moment. Ultimately, I decided to continue forward to the end of the course rather than go back to the start. Why go over the familiar ground? Why miss the rest of the experience due to a sudden, irrational fear? If you’ve ever been ziplining, then you know that you are harnessed onto the line. The line that has carried many people before you and will carry many people after you. You will also know that a helmet is worn, the bridges have ropes and the guides know what they are doing because they have led the course dozens if not, hundreds of times. I already had everything I needed to be secure, but the fear temporarily blinded me to those facts.

How many times has fear tricked me into thinking I am not good enough or aren’t able to do what I want/need to do? Quite a bit, if I am honest. This week, the fear took on the form of my being tired and needing self-care before I’d be good enough to post. Fear took on the form of procrastination in the thought process of you-should-do-x-more-before-you-do-y. I’ve lived with myself long enough to recognize when I suddenly poop out mentally and physically it is a sign I am caving in to the fear. It is such familiar ground. It isn’t pleasant ground; mixed in with the horrible feelings of self-shaming and condemnation are, ironically, also feelings of security, comfort. Yes, these feelings are unpleasant and destructive, but I know them, and, oh, do they know me. I am safe with them even if I don’t like them. Choosing to push forward places me in the unknown. Onto ground that may be higher, trickier, and require more of me than I think I am capable of. Who knows? Maybe this time the finish line is closer than the starting line. Regardless of which is the closest or more comfortable, I decided to move forward rather than go back. For today, that is enough.

Update: in between writing this post and publishing it technical difficulties abounded. Hahaha. Including, but not limited to, the site being unverified and down. I said I didn’t know what I was doing. Hahaha.