Fear

This is a post I wrote for San Diego Momma a few months ago. I’m reposting it here because 1)  I like it and think it’s worth repeating and 2) I’m at a loss for writing time these days. So rather than leave you with nothing,  I give you this. You’re welcome.

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Nothing To Fear, But Fear Itself

For so long I let opportunities pass me by.  I didn’t make opportunities for myself. I didn’t go for what I wanted. I was not one of those people who pursued their dreams. Or made things happen.

I let fear get in my way. Fear of looking like an idiot. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of not being smart enough .

I really ran a number on myself. I don’t think I even realized it until very recently. I’m almost 43 years old and I didn’t understand that I was telling myself a bullshit story.

And then one day I did. I realized I was afraid. That I had been telling myself for just about as long as I could remember that I was stupid. I was lazy. A flake. A slacker. It just hit me one day that this was the story I told myself.

Sadly, I told it to others as well. And I acted out on this story. For years. And made this crap true. I was lazy. And a flake and I did slack off. But not because that was who I was. But because I was afraid.

Afraid of failing. Afraid of succeeding.  Afraid of not measuring up. Just afraid.

No, it didn’t happen over night or out of the clear blue sky. I’d been in therapy; working on myself; becoming self-aware, as they say.

So it clicked. And I decided to flip the script. Every time a negative thought entered my mind, I’d shut it down and tell myself something positive. I am smart. I am talented. I can do this. (and gosh darn it, people like me)

And I started to believe it. Pretty quickly. And I started to look for what I wanted. To ask for what I wanted. To take what I wanted. To make opportunities happen and to seize opportunities that came my way. And magically (she says sarcastically because as I just said it took 40 years and a lot of work), things started happening for me. Things started falling into place.

I’m smart! I can write! People want to pay me to write for them. Because I do it well! I can do something not everyone can! Sure it feels good to clean the house and make a lovely dinner for my family. But let’s face it, a trained monkey could clean a toilet and a 3^rd grader could make Ina Garten’s chicken picata. But write well? Not everyone can do that.