What Am I Afraid Of?

****This is one of my old posts that I am leaving up.  It has earned its place on the Interwebs.


I am afraid I have lost myself.  I have lost the part of me that was confident without that one guy.  I have lost the part of me that had her own thoughts and opinions, knew why, and spoke them openly.  I have lost my freedom to wonder, my freedom to show that I was excited, and in its place I have acquired a suffocating desire to not be noticed.  At least, not to be pointed out and criticized.

          I have sold my soul to my own fear.  Fear that just being myself never was and never will be good enough.  Fear that just being myself will get me into trouble.  Fear that it will get people hurt – get more people hurt.  Because I hurt people.  I hurt them by trying to help them – by being just myself and trusting my instincts.

          I’ve spent the last year running away from my instincts; thinking they were dangerous, believing they were not to be trusted.  I convinced myself that any desire I had was a wicked, foolish, naïve one.  I ought to be more practical – more logical.  Surely anything I wanted for anything other than a logical reason had to be for a silly, selfish reason that would eventually end up causing more damage than I could control.

          I was wrong.  I have allowed fear to paralyze me for too long.  I’ve allowed too much cynicism into my heart and it has started to take root.  My secret garden has grown a lot of weeds, to the point that pulling them up is going to be painful.

          There’s a fine line between distancing yourself and running away.  I’ve been running – keeping my head down to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.  I’ve been obsessing over the past, things totally out of my control.  I’ve pushed people away in an attempt to make myself more available for history to repeat itself.

          Maybe I seem like I’m talking in riddles.  The answer to the riddle is this –

          I’ve decided that I’m not going to let my fear get the better of me anymore.  I may not be able to banish the fear on my own, but with God’s help I can rise above it.  I am going to get my courage back.  I am going to trust my instincts.  I’m going to find that brave girl I was a year ago.

          I used to think that going back to the person you used to be was always a bad thing.  I mean, there are plenty of versions of myself that I never want to see again.  But that girl…the girl who cared more about encouraging others than she cared about her own comfort…the girl who was vulnerable and funny and clever without trying to manipulate anything…that girl is worth going back for.  

          And once I do find her, I’m going to move forward.  I’m going to walk away from this pit of anxiety and self-pity I’ve been wallowing in for 11 months, and find something other than romance and myself to live for.

                  

                             With much love,

                                      Until next time,

                                                          Rosie Jane

Here We Go

****This is one of my old posts that I am leaving up.  It has earned its place on the Interwebs

I just finished looking at my calendar for the next three months.  My stomach is in knots.

          

        You know that feeling you get right as you’re getting onto a roller coaster?  You get butterflies in your stomach and you wonder what in the world you’ve gotten yourself into?  It’s an intoxicating mix of fear and excitement.  You can’t wait for the thrill of the drops, but there’s a big hill to climb before you get there.

         

        That’s how I feel right about now.  Like I’ve been standing in line forever, and now it’s finally my turn to go on the ride of my life.  I’m suddenly not entirely sure how I feel about it.  But there’s no going back now.  Everything has been working up to this, and this is working up to something else. There’s nowhere to go but forwards.

         

      I am so ready, and I am so not ready.  I love it.  I know it’s going to be weird after this.  Nothing is ever going to be the same. 

          

     Every summer is like this in a way.  I go on some kind of adventure, and at the end, when I come back home, I’m changed.  Dramatically.

          

        Except that this time, I’m not just going home after the adventures I have.  Summer is just the approach trail.  The warm-up.  The kiddie ride before taking on the mammoth with eight twists and two loop-the-loops – all of which you also do going backwards, because YOLO. 

        

       Long story short, I’m about to do the craziest thing a kid with thrill issues could ever do.  I’m going to grow up.  And I have no idea what I’m in for.  I only know that I’d better hang on to my hat.  Or better yet, just throw my hands up in the air and let inertia do its thing. 

         

                                             Until next time,

                                                                  Rosie Jane