I try so hard to be brave. My comfort zone feels like a distant home, a place I love to visit but where I no longer live. And a lot of the time that feels fine. I am excited about where I’m headed. I’m SO excited. But I’m also scared.
And not confessing the fear makes it worse, because then it turns into a shameful secret, and shame is self-hate, and self-hate is harmful.
So I want to talk about this, even though it’s (surprise!) frightening to be publicly vulnerable. It feels like because I am strong I’m not allowed to show weakness; because I have courage I shouldn’t flaunt fear.
But the fact is I’m afraid. And the more I illuminate that truth, the lighter I will become.
I’m afraid I can’t hold all the goodness I’m asking for. I’m afraid to write another book. I’m afraid to look for an agent. I’m afraid I don’t deserve the massive success I envision for myself. I’m afraid I’m a fraud, that my earnest attempts at authenticity are nothing more than ego.
I’m afraid to publish this post, that exposing insecurities is naive and unsavvy. I’m afraid you’ll pass judgment. I’m afraid I’ll be sorry.
And all of that’s okay. Each of my fears and ten million more are not only okay, they’re inescapable.
As a human, I am going to feel fear. A lot. Probably always.
But I also feel love.
Love is my trump card, my winning lotto ticket, my night-light, my soft blanket, my wide smile, my huge hug. Love is my hope, and my laughter, and my promise to keep trying.
Love is what I have to give, and fear is what I face to do so. Neither emotion will disappear, but what I focus on will flourish.
So today I choose love. Awareness gives me the option, honesty gives me the freedom, and with gratitude, I am not so scared.