It has its place, fear. Avoiding crack dens and war zones is not a bad idea.
But most of the time, fear is a motherfucker, and I'm tired of it. All the time screaming that the blasted sky is falling when the heavens are merely dotted with a puffy cloud or two.
I have let fear rule my life more often than not. I have been its bitch and asked for a second heaping helping. Clung to Fear like a lover and master.
Used Fear as an excuse to hardly ever, ever go balls to the wall after what I want.
To want and never try.
To live more life in my head than in my world.
To bask in the warm glow of the potential than the knuckle-scraping fight for what I desire.
To hold people at arm's length because if I let them get close, they'll leave and I'll be devastated.
To keep my mouth shut instead of calling bullshit at the ways traditional education doesn't serve children.
To avoid owning myself as a sexual being and becoming comfortable in my own skin.
To admit that the reason I am most afraid to die childless is that I'm afraid it means God/the Universe/the Baby Fairy believes I'm less fit than the drug addicts and teenage mothers and small-minded, hateful people with children to be a mother. Unfit. Unworthy. Unacceptable.
I can trace the roots of all of these fears back to scars in my life. I'm sure plenty of people would pat me on the head sweetly and volunteer to sing Soft Kitty to me, taking my excuses as Good Reasons to hold back and remain stuck in Fear's dungeon.
We all could. We all have excuses, examples, stories of that guy who took a chance and ended up homeless with a bad case of herpes.
The fact remains, we have ONE life to live. We can live it in a prison that we co-create with our fears, or we can blast that bad boy down brick by brick and make our lives great. Not perfect, not easy, but alive with every nerve crackling with the question of What's Next?
We are the only ones in our way. Us. And so we are also the only ones who can reclaim our power and cast fear aside to the waiting room until his presence is actually required.
I have reached my end. I feel sick writing this, knowing that if I do not follow through you will call me out and nothing–nothing–I write will mean anything. Words, empty as the fake wrapped presents under department store Christmas trees.
A new project is unfolding. It makes me shake–both with fear and with excitement. Hope. Possibility. As it becomes more concrete, I'll share it here as well as how I'm transforming fear into action.
If you've ever felt this way…you're not alone. And if you think Who am I to try?, take a look at the video below. We have no excuses. None. It's time to choose yourself over your fears. Who's with me?
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