feel the fear; do it anyway

I was afraid of heights, of the dark, of insects. I'm nervous around dogs, cats and small children. In high school, I watched "In the Mouth of Madness" with some friends, got spooked, and spent the night in my sister's twin sized bed. I'm afraid of speed. I'm a bad swimmer so I'm afraid of water (or is that of drowning?). I am really afraid of causing someone else to suffer, be it a client who loses because I neglected a detail, or an unpregnant woman who receives my unwelcome congratulations. I am afraid of public speaking. I dread conflict.

But I've made lemonade of my lemons. Fear is now a very familiar emotion, such that if I don't feel it (even just a little), I know I'm being reckless. Fear is not a wall anymore. It's been reduced to a shadow: present without keeping me from moving forward, from learning, trying, failing. Fear is no longer an enemy that tells me that I cannot; it is a reminder that "I'm scared" is not the same as "it's impossible."

I've watched friends raft the Nile, bungee jump, fight with strangers without pause, fear or hesitation. That will never be me. I will always take a deep breath and take a moment to mentally uncurl myself from the fetal position. My heart will pound and half burst out of my chest. My palms will sweat. But then I jumped out of the plane. I swung from a rope. I rafted the Nile. I snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef. I killed insects with my bare hands. I tackled the difficult but necessary conversations. I got used to pitch blackness during regular power outages. I argue in court and address conflict for a living.

I still feel the fear, but I keep going. And then... exhilaration. Not merely the thrill of the task at hand, but also the ecstasy of freedom, of moving items from "cannot" to "been there, done that."