Archive for October, 2016

Fear of flying

Fear. I’ve never admitted it. People I’ve met over the years have even called me fearless, and I embraced that belief, thinking up all the times that I’d taken a step into the unknown and come out on top. But with the full moon this weekend calling me out on my BS, I had an epiphany. I’m scared of stuff. I’ve always been. While on the outside I look all calm and composed, there’s a shaking bundle of “no way” hiding just under the surface.

I look pretty successful and confident. So right now I’m coming out of the closet to say that it’s all a sham. Every single step I’ve ever taken has been weighed with incredible attention to the details until I had concluded that the risks were minimal. It’s easy to be fearless when there’s nothing to fear. But I want to do more than what’s safe. I want to fly.


It’s the other stuff that I’m coming clean about.

I’m afraid of being a bad mom. I do my homework and can tell you all the latest research about what works and what doesn’t. I plan playdates, make sure my kid does his homework and brushes his teeth at least once a day. But in the back of my mind I know that I could really screw this up because making sure your kid has playdates doesn’t insure that he’s going to be a good human. And what I think is that it’s up to me to make sure I give him the best chance possible, even when I don’t want to read before bedtime, or make sure he has clean clothes.

I’m afraid of being a bad wife. I love my husband but I know I make him crazy with my OCD. Sometimes we have nothing in common to talk about and I hate the way he still thinks farting is funny. Like many couples the romance often takes a backseat to parenting and that sucks and it’s really scary. And I don’t want to be a bad wife because I have a really good chance to live happily ever after here.

And I’m afraid that I’m never going to do what I was sent to earth to do, because sometimes I don’t even know what that is, except when I do. And when I do, I’m so busy not doing the things that I should to make it all happen. And that is so scary – all caps scary.

And fear keeps me stuck. It made me tell myself that it would be okay if I never wrote another word in my life, which is a huge lie. Because when I’m not writing I’m not breathing and when I’m not creating there’s a hole in my life big enough to swallow me whole. And writing is scary, but not writing is scarier.

And so I am here. And afraid. But I’m writing anyway. Because it’s not the finished product that matters, it’s the writing. I started a new story this weekend. The idea came to me in a dream, which sounds hokey, but is unbelievably true. I know it’s the universe saying, “Okay, now it’s time to get over the fear and do what you were meant to do. Don’t read another book about writing or talk to people about writing or buy a program to help or rent space for a studio – just take off and fly. You have nothing to fear.”

What I know is that fear gets me nowhere. It won’t help me raise a good human, or have a good marriage or put words on a page. So instead of pretending to be fearless, I’ll just stand up to my fear and shine a little light on the darkness. I’ll kiss my kid and my husband more often, and I’ll write. Today, and the day after that.



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