I wrote something a week ago about bravery and courage, action versus inaction, and the general state of be terrified. I knew it missed the mark, so I asked my Unlikely Friend for feedback. "The writing," she said "is good, but I don't think I agree with much it." If anyone knows my heart, she does, so here I am today - back to the drawing board.
I think I didn't quite know what I was trying to convey the last time, but lessons seem to be coming at me swiftly these days. The newest lesson: there is nothing wrong with pure, unadulterated fear. And by the way, courage is sometimes as simple as just being present in the moment.
When I get scared, I run away. Sometimes I physically remove myself. I pack up my dog and my ipod, and I camp in Cape Henlopen for 3 nights. (True story!)
Other times, I emotionally withdrawl from the people I should lean on. Phone calls go unanswered; emails are perpetually marked as unread.
But most often, I do things that seem crazy; I create antics that are designed to sidestep my fear. You don't think it's random that whenever I find myself afraid, I come home from Philadelphia with another hole in my body do you? More ink on my already tatted skin? Well, if you think it's random*, it's not. It's a diversion. It's an opportunity for me to fake everyone, even myself, out. See? I got a new body mod. That makes me brave. Right?
Wrong. It's not really bravery at all; it's just a distraction from the mental gymnastics of spending so much of my life actively afraid. Afraid of the future. Afraid of the past. Afraid of becoming someone I'm not. Afraid of letting myself be who I am. There are a lot of things, my friends, of which I am afraid.
It's recently occurred to me that courage isn't the absence of fear; courage is instead about embracing it to live your life anyway. So yeah, my natural inclination is to run, far and fast, away from all the things that terrify me. And right now, sure, there's terror. How could there not be? My plans, my careful well-laid plans, are flittering away and I can barely keep up. I could go to Cape Henlopen, or stop answering my texts, but what would that solve? The things I'm looking for are right here in front of me.
So, I've steadily and soundly decided to simply stand still. If it feels right, I'll do it. If it sounds right, I'll say it. If it turns out wrong, I'll handle it. I choose inaction, because inaction, it appears, is the foundation of finding the things that makes me actually brave.
*The fact that tattoos and piercings are fear based is not remotely related to their meaning or importance in my life. If that confuses you, just wait. An entry about the religious nature of body modification, while not specifically planned right now, will eventually make it's way out of my odd little brain.
I think I didn't quite know what I was trying to convey the last time, but lessons seem to be coming at me swiftly these days. The newest lesson: there is nothing wrong with pure, unadulterated fear. And by the way, courage is sometimes as simple as just being present in the moment.
When I get scared, I run away. Sometimes I physically remove myself. I pack up my dog and my ipod, and I camp in Cape Henlopen for 3 nights. (True story!)
Other times, I emotionally withdrawl from the people I should lean on. Phone calls go unanswered; emails are perpetually marked as unread.
But most often, I do things that seem crazy; I create antics that are designed to sidestep my fear. You don't think it's random that whenever I find myself afraid, I come home from Philadelphia with another hole in my body do you? More ink on my already tatted skin? Well, if you think it's random*, it's not. It's a diversion. It's an opportunity for me to fake everyone, even myself, out. See? I got a new body mod. That makes me brave. Right?
Wrong. It's not really bravery at all; it's just a distraction from the mental gymnastics of spending so much of my life actively afraid. Afraid of the future. Afraid of the past. Afraid of becoming someone I'm not. Afraid of letting myself be who I am. There are a lot of things, my friends, of which I am afraid.
It's recently occurred to me that courage isn't the absence of fear; courage is instead about embracing it to live your life anyway. So yeah, my natural inclination is to run, far and fast, away from all the things that terrify me. And right now, sure, there's terror. How could there not be? My plans, my careful well-laid plans, are flittering away and I can barely keep up. I could go to Cape Henlopen, or stop answering my texts, but what would that solve? The things I'm looking for are right here in front of me.
So, I've steadily and soundly decided to simply stand still. If it feels right, I'll do it. If it sounds right, I'll say it. If it turns out wrong, I'll handle it. I choose inaction, because inaction, it appears, is the foundation of finding the things that makes me actually brave.
*The fact that tattoos and piercings are fear based is not remotely related to their meaning or importance in my life. If that confuses you, just wait. An entry about the religious nature of body modification, while not specifically planned right now, will eventually make it's way out of my odd little brain.
The bravest thing you can do is to stay put and live life as your true self. Same lesson I learned at 30. Welcome.
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