Actually, I don’t feel like being scared.
I’m done with being scared.
And lacking confidence.
And feeling worthless.
Granted, it’s been a long time – abut 20 years, in fact – since I didn’t wake up in a state of self-loathing, but still. I have no desire to go back there.
So when I prompted myself to Be Scared, it brought back some of those memories, and they weren’t pretty.
I thought about the Past. Was I truly scared back then? Or just insecure? Was what I felt typical of young female anxiety or something more?
What was I afraid of?
Disordered eating is ugly, but in any event it really doesn’t matter now.
I am a survivor.
If I ‘have’ to feel scared today, then it’s going to be about diving off a boat in three weeks to swim a mile across the Columbia River. It’s about boarding an airplane to land in Detroit in the middle of the night with a two-year-old and a five-year-old. It’s about being unemployed in a dismal economy and yet — the truth is that even that doesn’t scare me today. Despite the disappointment I feel at the crumbling of the organization for which I was employed, I feel incredibly liberated and delighted to have the opportunity to explore new opportunities.
I’m going to join the PTA.
I’m going to write more.
I’m going to try to eat my toddler’s toes during tickle fights and games of chase.
I’m going to introduce my kindergartener to a world of letters and stories and dreams in books.
So in my week of words, I’m not sure I captured the essence of what it is to Be Scared. Because I’ve done that, and been there, and I don’t feel Scared anymore.
I feel Strong.
Struggling – yet –