Confessions of a scaredy-cat
I hate feeling afraid, but it's probably one of the emotions I experience most.
I'm afraid of change. I'm afraid of surprises. I fear monotony. I fear going outside my comfort zone. I cringe at the thought of my greatest fears coming to life. I cringe when I realize I'm self-realizing a lot of shit I never wanted to happen.
But I don't know how to not feel this terror. I don't know how to be without relying on my safety net and it's impossibly frustrating, knowing I'm holding myself back from doing a lot of great things because I don't want to risk not landing safely. I know I'm stubborn, but in addition to being as unyielding as a pebble in cement-covered sidewalk, I know I'm prideful. Most of my fear is tied to the complete and utter desolation I feel when I'm afraid that I'm about to fail.
And I hate it.
In retrospect, I think moving to Montreal is like another guarantee at safety for me. It's as though I've convinced myself that once I'm out east, win or lose, no one will have to find out. And let's face it: I'm incredibly secretive. I reveal only the parts of me I want to share. Not quite an onion like Shrek -- each layer another intricacy to my persona -- but more a Rubik's cube of information. Not because I'm devilishly clever or anything like that, but more because I'm contradictory and reserved.
How I wish I was no longer afraid. But try as I might to convince myself of my intelligence, my competency, my tenacity, I shrink at the thought that I'll fail, no matter how hard I try. And my failures will be broadcast to the world; a sign to everyone in my life (past, present, future) that I'm not as good as they all think I am. That I'm truly as incapable as I fear.
And this is why I don't reach for my goals. Because even the thought of trying to reach for them only to come out empty-handed is terrifying. Even more so than being locked in a room with various rodents. Even more hair-raising than throwing up in front of a large crowd after giving a speech on my darkest secrets. Even scarier than remembering all those times I embarrassed myself.
I'm a chicken and what scares me most is that I'm somehow okay with settling with what I have; that knowing and recognizing my fear equates to me accepting it and doing nothing about it. Shouldn't I want to better myself? Instead, I continue to shrug and think "oh well"... I'm even too afraid to care.
Fuck.
I'm afraid of change. I'm afraid of surprises. I fear monotony. I fear going outside my comfort zone. I cringe at the thought of my greatest fears coming to life. I cringe when I realize I'm self-realizing a lot of shit I never wanted to happen.
But I don't know how to not feel this terror. I don't know how to be without relying on my safety net and it's impossibly frustrating, knowing I'm holding myself back from doing a lot of great things because I don't want to risk not landing safely. I know I'm stubborn, but in addition to being as unyielding as a pebble in cement-covered sidewalk, I know I'm prideful. Most of my fear is tied to the complete and utter desolation I feel when I'm afraid that I'm about to fail.
And I hate it.
In retrospect, I think moving to Montreal is like another guarantee at safety for me. It's as though I've convinced myself that once I'm out east, win or lose, no one will have to find out. And let's face it: I'm incredibly secretive. I reveal only the parts of me I want to share. Not quite an onion like Shrek -- each layer another intricacy to my persona -- but more a Rubik's cube of information. Not because I'm devilishly clever or anything like that, but more because I'm contradictory and reserved.
How I wish I was no longer afraid. But try as I might to convince myself of my intelligence, my competency, my tenacity, I shrink at the thought that I'll fail, no matter how hard I try. And my failures will be broadcast to the world; a sign to everyone in my life (past, present, future) that I'm not as good as they all think I am. That I'm truly as incapable as I fear.
And this is why I don't reach for my goals. Because even the thought of trying to reach for them only to come out empty-handed is terrifying. Even more so than being locked in a room with various rodents. Even more hair-raising than throwing up in front of a large crowd after giving a speech on my darkest secrets. Even scarier than remembering all those times I embarrassed myself.
I'm a chicken and what scares me most is that I'm somehow okay with settling with what I have; that knowing and recognizing my fear equates to me accepting it and doing nothing about it. Shouldn't I want to better myself? Instead, I continue to shrug and think "oh well"... I'm even too afraid to care.
Fuck.
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