Months ago, I determined 2010 to be the year that I would win.
The year that I would finally stop being so afraid. Of everything. Of nothing. I want to win. I've never wanted anything more, yet my path is so littered with obstacles and challenges and I'm so damned tired and fed up with clearing the clutter only to have it all fall in around on me the moment I start seeing light at the end of the tunnel.
Yes, I have made incredible progress in moving away from where I was, but I'm still nowhere near where I want to be. Ironically, the fears, caused by fleeting moments of discord, find a way to take up seemingly permanent residence in my synapses. Yet the little victories remain just that, small and unremarkable to my subconscious.
Frustration fills the empty spaces. And often bulges at the seams.
If something is irritating enough, you eventually need to scratch.
All those months ago, when my need for confidence and independence partnered up with my ambitious denial and told that Debbie Downer squatter in my brain to shut her whiney mouth and live a little for a change… I felt stronger than I have felt in decades. Once fueled with a ticket to BlogHer and flight reservations, my ballsy bravado proceeded to compile more and more travel arrangements, making it… complicated to back out. My courage was growing, I declared! Until… it wavered.
Since then, this trip has become more of an impending reality and less of an idealistic and romantic goal to find the ever elusive courage within me. I can’t help but feel all I’ve really accomplished is to find a way to force myself into doing something otherwise unthinkable. But maybe that’s what I need?
When I embarked on the first leg of my journey this past Friday, I was pensive; more nervous than confident and more wishful than certain that I CAN really do this. The remainder of the two day trip sat like gut lumber in my knotted stomach and the predictable and reviled automatic negative thoughts were a constant adversary; typical.
I soldiered on. I breathed. I focused. I prevented disasters on the road and willed hotels from caving in on top of me using only my mind. Not really the special powers they seem to be. More simply, I merely rationalized with the irrational and convinced myself of the improbability of doom and death. All in a day’s work really, but I really should feel more like a super hero instead of a serial victim.
I don't leave for New York until next week, so I'm feeling like I'm in limbo. It's kind of like standing in line to get on that roller coaster you really don't want to go on, but your friend is dragging you along anyway. As you inch along, getting closer to the front of the line, you notice how everyone looks excited and happy; yet you feel nauseous and overwhelmed and pray that the ride needs to be shut down just so you don't have to decide between backing out at the last minute and getting on some monstrous contraption that will probably kill you.
I’m not backing out. Sure, a part of me wants to, but I won’t. I want this.
I REALLY want this.
I’m going to go partly because I know that there will be an abundance of people there that get it and will support me. I also have so much to look forward to. I just hope all of the things I’m afraid of don’t consume me and spoil the experience.
Mostly though, I’m going because I need to stop being so scared and the only way out of this is to jump. I have to take the long ride up to that first big drop - in the front car! And then, during that weightless moment right before plummeting back to earth… that brief moment when the sound of silence is crushed by the final clink of the chain (as it releases you into freefall) and the thumping of your own heart in your ears… in that moment, I need to find a way to trust myself again and know that no matter what happens… I’ll be ok. I need to be my own super hero once and for all.
And if I’m really lucky? When the ride’s over, I’ll want to get right back on and do it again. Because it was fun.