Chapter 2, Exercise 3: Face Your Fears
“I’m not sure how to do it:” This is not my issue. I tend to think of result then find my way to it.
“It may take too much time:” I am here to give this all my time.
“It will cost money:” This is a big one. I have been very worried about money lately. I have enough for two years if I am very careful. The third year of this program scares me. This book makes a good point. Money is there to be spent. Once my basic needs are cared for I can get by. I can make this work and it is worth the investment.
“It is self-indulgent:” I gave up teaching because it kept me from indulging. This is my time. I am facing this down.
“I am not good enough for this program:” I do feel intimidated. Pretty much everyone here seems to know more than I do. Everyone is so talented and has so much experience and I just don’t. I have to remind myself that I would not have been admitted if people didn’t think I could do it. I must have something worth their interest. They are experts. They know. I should trust that.
Maybe I am being to blasé about fear. I am almost never physically afraid. I am not sure why, but I suspect it links back to events that happened when I was younger. I have plenty of emotional fears, but it is in my nature to face them. I think it always has been.
I remember when I was a kid. Everyone has those nights. You know the ones. There is something in your room. It is under your bed. You scream for parents but every parent alive knows there is a time to just make the kid face it. If you lay under the covers and are very very still, it won’t know you are there. You are as still and quiet as you can be but then your bladder betrays you. So what do you do? Your parents have abandoned you. The monster is waiting. You have to be still but you just can’t do it. Wetting the bed is not an option. So you make a frantic leap off of the bed, jerking your feet into the air and dodging the hot breath and grasping claws of the -____- and you run into the light. I had those nights like everyone else, but I never leapt off the bed to run into the light. Instead, I laid there, frozen in place. I closed my eyes and I let all that fear gather up in me like a raging storm. Then I rolled as hard as I could. I threw myself off the bed and onto the floor and then I rolled right under the bed to face the thing that I knew could not really be there. I hated the fear that rose in me much more than I feared whatever might be waiting.
I don’t think I have changed much.