I like to think of myself as fearless, as one who conquers all obstacles with jaw firm, chin held high and hair whipping about my head in the howling storm. Something straight out of a melodramatic movie from the 1940’s.
This is the real me.
The truth is I am afraid of just about everything. I’m afraid of failing and of succeeding. Of speaking and of keeping silent. Of moving and of being still. Of discovering new things and of losing the old. Of being brave and of remaining so timid.
But I cannot stand to admit this, even to myself! So my fears present themselves with different faces. Very practical and reasonable faces that play on my guilt and my insecurities so I can justify giving in to them without ever having to acknowledge what I know is truly behind them. Then what I need most to do is set aside.
This past January, I chose a personal theme for the year – courage. I have been surprised at how difficult a thing it is for me to keep a grip on. Now that I realize the need for questioning every “reasonable” objection that comes to mind, for taking no motive at face value, I have to laugh at how little I can trust my own self!
How many years have I willingly gone along with this deception? How much could I have done, but didn’t? My head hurts just thinking about it.
I do know that I don’t want to be this way even one more day. Demanding honesty and transparency from your own self sounds ridiculous, I know, but that is exactly what I am dealing with right now. Maybe I won’t look like the heroine at the end of a classic movie with her fist raised in triumph. I’ll be proud to just keep moving forward in spite of my wide eyes and trembling knees.