I failed. Really failed. I was recently presented an opportunity to open my heart, to live fully, to be in the moment and let go of my fears. Boy, did I fail. I was full of fear, denial and if I’d been able to run I probably would have. Luckily, it was late and I didn’t have a car. It’s been a cold winter, running would have been even more stupid than being afraid.
So I failed for about ten minutes. Then I realized that everything that was happening was what I really really wanted deep in my heart. I’d love to say that for that ten minutes I didn’t do anything stupid. How I wish that I was just silent and processed, but no that’s not what happened. I was openly fearful and reacted badly. So, there’s that. I least I was honest about my first feelings. I recovered. Slowly. And I apologized and it got examined and talked about. We’ll see the cost.
Here’s where I am a few days later, though. I am in the process, much through writing, of forgiving myself. There’s a part of me that’s been through a lot of therapy that says of course you reacted badly, you were raised to duck, hide and pretend. There’s another part of me that says, you’ve done a lot of work and you’re an adult now and that’s your past. The truth is somewhere in the middle.
My first instinct is to be in that place of fear. Getting what my heart truly desires terrifies me. As a kid getting what I really really wanted was scary because it was so often stripped from me in a second, either in anger or punishment. Punishment in my home was random and really was thinly veiled anger, not really about correcting behavior.
As an adult I still can be in that place of fear about what I really really want. Not only have I conditioned myself not to want too much and often mask it through being a mother and a partner, but I put other people’s needs in front of my own and even got to a place in life where I really didn’t know who I was.
So it’s progress. I’m willing to recognize my fear and be present with it. I’m willing to let my past be my past and most importantly I’m willing to be uncomfortable to get what I really really want. Writing that makes my heart skip a beat, but as I wrote earlier this week I’m finally in this really great place in my life with great people, liking who I am. I’m not willing to go back. I’ll be unhappy again in life, it’s bound to happen (I’m working on not attaching to being happy), but my unhappiness will come because life will shift and change not because I’m full of fear.