Bravery- courageous behavior or character.
Fear- an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or
something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.
“Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.”
Fear is my
constant companion. It is what has pushed me to love, fight through being
broken hearted, and to love again. It’s what has driven me in my professional
pursuits- the more I was afraid, the more I knew I had to do it. It’s taught me
to go to the brink- brought me to my knees, gasping for air and leaving me to
wonder what the hell I was doing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve “chased
the rabbit” because of it- borrowing trouble about things far from my control,
and tail spinning to the point I thought I couldn’t stop.
I have
never thought of myself as brave. People seem to think I am, because of the way
I walk in this world. If I wear anything as I badge embroidered on my chest, it
would not have bravery stenciled across it. It would say I was fueled by my
fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of not finding my person, fear of failing my
family and friends, and fear of not living up to the expectations I’ve set out
for myself. I’m awakened by it- sensing and feeling more, dreaming more
vividly.
I am afraid
I won’t honor everything my parents have done for me, so I push myself to be
better. To give them something they and I can be proud of. If I were to die
tomorrow, to know I have constantly strived to put my best foot forward- and on
the days I failed, to challenge myself to be better the next day, and the days
after that.
I am afraid
of not loving. I have been broken hearted, and broken hearts myself, and this
instills dread within me. What if I’m not meant to find them? What if my love
stories were meant to be short? Is my love story a conventional one, or far from it? Why the hell do I worry about these things in the first place? I know
my life can still be a grand thing without them, but still.
I’m
petrified on a regular basis in my professional life. I’m not smart enough,
gifted enough. I’ll let people down, or make mistakes. So I throw myself into
the work instead. I go for the jobs that make chills run down my back, and give
me nightmares. The ones I end up fixating on until every scenario has run
through my mind, and nothing could be worse then what has already happened
within my own imagination.
My fear
forced me to grow a thicker skin- when I was younger I was afraid of how I
would be treated because I looked and acted different. I was and still am
reminded daily about my difference. I hoped so much to be normal. Then
something hardened in me, and the fear turned into something else.
The little
girl who wanted badly for straight hair instead of curly, for light skin
instead of dark, for a demeanor like the other little girls in my classes
disappeared. In her place grew a woman prepared to face those who would feed on
the insecurity and dread I once had.
It’s not
all gone- those who know me best know deeper down there is a sensitivity born
from those old feelings which helps me remain compassionate and open. Often
begrudgingly and paved along with way with my colorful vocabulary, I show my
true colors, but I at least wasn’t turned inward and made into something cruel.
My biggest
fear now is not being true to who I am. To walk boldly in the light and love
who I love, live how I think I should live, to fulfill the dreams my fears
can’t seem to put out. Am I trying hard enough? Do I tell them I love them as
often as I should? Do I show it? Can I be better, faster, stronger? Have I done all I could do, or is there more?
I can’t
play it safe, and because of this I’ve failed miserably in every aspect of my
life. I’ve triumphed too. I’ve also seen and done things far beyond what I
originally thought I could do. All the grand plans and ideas I made, my life
looks nothing like that. I am a better person because of it. I'm raw, outspoken, fresh. I'm opinionated, stubborn, perhaps at times overly calculated, and able to listen.
So I am
thankful for my fear.
