Nothing to Fear

A quiet, shy child I grew up afraid of nearly everything. Some things were understandable, others quite ridiculous. Fear seemed to have a grip on my life from the very beginning, at least as early on as I can remember.

It seems odd for a child to struggle with the fear I felt most of my childhood. Some of the ridiculous fears include the time my parents told me about the tooth fairy...I was okay not cashing in on my loss because I didn't want some strange, random woman in my room. At one time I had bed sheets with pictures of Precious Moments children and I told my mom I didn't want those people on my bed. Weird.

Some of the fears were substantiated, like my darling mother's way to keeping me safe from pedophiles. She told me not to sit on any man's lap other than my father's. This one little lesson made me afraid of men and I never got too close to them and I felt safer that way. I also feared strangers. This is a safe bet, but it was materialized when anyone rang our door bell. Everyone who knew us came to our side door, so I would get tense when I heard the door bell. Strange thing is, if I'm not expecting anyone now and the door bell rings, I still get that same feeling. I wonder how much couch time that would get me!

I have always grappled with fear and had to push myself into situations to prove I would be okay, but the fear of success and failure keep me from really diving into the work required of my biggest dream. Writing a novel has been my ultimate goal since I was eight years old. At eight I realized I could put my thoughts on paper in a way I couldn't express verbally and I've loved the art ever since. So why can't I push myself into this situation, then sit back and see what happens? The what-ifs abound: What if it's never published? What if it's published and EVERYONE loves it? What if I get to a point and just start rambling, all that work for nothing? What if I my lack of knowledge of writing a novel keeps me from producing something good? What if I'm a huge success and it takes me away from my family too much? What if I'm a huge failure and never write another word?

Then the sane side of my brain jumps in and offers what-ifs that help get me closer to starting the writing process. What if I sit down a couple of hours a day and do what I love? What if I complete this, get it to a publisher and they hate it? What would I have lost? What if they do love it? What if I stop doubting myself just long enough to write something great? Wouldn't that be something??!

So after discussing my story idea with Babe last night before drifting off to sleep, I decide to go for it. After all, I'd rather fall flat on my face doing something I love than spend my life wondering what would have happened had I pushed myself past the fear. I'll keep you posted.