I’ve always been fearful - afraid of the dark, of showering when no one’s home, of Halloween. I was even afraid to do a cartwheel when I was a young girl - ride on a horse, or roller skate - I never felt safe if my feet weren’t touching the ground.
When I watch the young skateboarders or extreme sport athletes I envy their bravery - their courage, their willingness to take a chance, to get hurt, to want something so badly that they are willing to endure whatever the consequences. But no, that was never me.
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| Photo by Mario Azzi on Unsplash |
And fear can be a good thing. It is what can keep us safe - it can be a beacon - a light to follow when our intuition tells us something isn’t right. It’s hard to know the difference sometimes between real fear, when your life might be in danger, or imagined fear, the kind that prevents you from trying things, or going for it, just because you think you might get hurt. And that type of hurt is usually just an ego bruise.
I must say I have been brave with my heart, though - to a fault. Gave it away rather quickly at times and trusted that whatever would come my way I could handle. Some I handled better than others because broken hearts, like glass, break differently - depending on where they fall, what they hit, and what force was inflicted upon them. I have heard that the shards from a shattered heart can kill you, and I don’t doubt that. The cracks you can fill and breaks you can try to glue back together but it never again fits perfectly. There are always little slivers missing.
But anyway, I didn’t mean to go off on the Brave Heart thing - what I want now is to be more fearless in all areas of life, I want to try, take more risks, take chances, throw the dice occasionally - trusting that everything I need will find it’s way to me - through the breaks, the falls, the cracks, and the fear, and I will end up ok, no regrets and at least a bit more fulfilled.
Elizabeth Gilbert wrote a piece on fear that forever changed my life - I think of her and her words now whenever I hear that voice inside my head that says “don’t do it, you’re not good enough, or strong enough, or smart enough, or something along those lines, and it goes something like this - "You're (meaning, Fear) allowed to have a seat, and you're allowed to have a voice. But you are not allowed to have a vote. You're not allowed to touch the road maps, or suggest detours. You're not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you're not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, you are absolutely forbidden to drive."
