How To Face Fear And Rise Above It
The solution is simpler than you think.
I’m frozen, precariously balanced on the balls of my feet, willing myself to take the next step, but I can’t.
My breathing is more shallow now, even though I’ve stopped running. Sweat drips down my arms, collecting at the edges of my elbows. I can do this, I tell myself. No big deal.
A Regular Morning
Just 20 minutes ago, I was in my living room, finishing my stretches and lacing up my shoes. When I opened the front door and inhaled the cool morning air, it was still dark as I headed out for this 4-mile run. The neighborhood felt at once eerie and adrenaline-elevating, especially when I discovered a new route.
Then, halfway through the journey, I noticed the ramp to this pedestrian bridge. I made it to the top of the ramp, then found myself here — paralyzed in fear — staring across a narrow footbridge, spanning across 4 lanes of early-morning traffic.
Now, as the ground shakes, I zero in on the vibrations coming from the cars whizzing below. Cross the bridge, I tell myself. It’s only a few hundred yards.
Rationally, I’m sure this bridge was constructed by the best engineers. Thousands have crossed it before me, as will thousands more. Still, I try to convince myself to MOVE, but all the reasoning in the world won’t quiet my fear.
This feels a lot like life, I think, watching as others pass and move around motionless me.
I envy these people as they navigate — with seeming ease — the path I often find so difficult. I am baffled by my ludicrous fears, knowing many will choose to maneuver around me, filling the very space I long to own.
I’m a 50 year old woman, frustrated that something like heights can immobilize me, and that my rational thoughts can’t punch through such a ridiculous fear. This fear makes me feel childish, alone, and overwhelmed, and as I experience it, another emotional flood gate opens, allowing a little parade of accusations to march all over my mind. Only later do I realize that my fear of heights just triggered an even deeper, more complex sense of angst.
Fears, Triggered
I don’t recall the first time I felt afraid like this, but somewhere along the line, I grew uncomfortable — not only around heights, but also with certain parts of me, like
the part that took 35 years to come out of the closet
the part that struggles to gain financial footing
the part that always demands perfection
the part that’s so relentlessly stubborn
the part that longs for love — and wonders if it’s even deserved
Flashes of the past six months of training help to slow down my racing thoughts. I’ve been preparing for the October 13th Chicago Marathon, something I wondered if I was prepared to do when I first signed up. Little by little, and consistently every week, I’ve pushed myself to go a little further. And, before I knew it, I came to believe I could. Turns out my confidence has come not from big, flashy decisions or flamboyant expressions of grandeur. It’s not been achieved by muscling through.
It’s taken consistent effort to keep going.
And it’s been simple, but never easy.
These hours of training — spent on the road with just my thoughts — provide welcome perspective. It’s during my training runs that I let myself get distracted. I doubt. I mess up. And I get afraid…of all kinds of things.
What if I get injured?
What if I get sick?
Can I make it for all 26.2 miles?
Will I finish in a good time?
What if . . .
What if I never “get ahead” financially?
What if I never find the love of my life?
I’m eyeing the bridge again as the banana I wolfed down earlier churns in my belly. I decide I have choices.
I can turn back right now.
I can stand here, existing with all the worry in my head about all the “what ifs.”
Or, I can keep moving ahead.
Something awakens in me, a simple intention to embody my freedom. I raise my chin and traverse the span of the bridge.
A Breakthrough
Later that day, I have a breakthrough. I realize what really scares me the most.
It’s not about heights or traversing pedestrian bridges.
It’s not about failing to finish 26.2 miles.
It’s not even about the tyranny of “what if’s” playing around the edges of every scary endeavor.
The thing I’ve been most of afraid of is my own strength, something I’m still learning to harness and embrace, a dynamic Marianne Williamson wrote about so eloquently:
Our Deepest Fear
By Marianne Williamson
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness
That most frightens us.
We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Who are you not to be?…
Your playing small
Does not serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine,
As children do…
And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we’re liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.
In my mind, I can see that bridge again.
I got this, I think.
One bridge at a time, I am learning not to look down in fear, but rather ahead and with strength. One bridge at a time, I am learning to embrace the parts of me I’ve considered less likeable, and to own my distinct brand of badassery.
Though scary, I crossed a massive bridge this week — not only once — but twice, as my new route forced me back over the same footbridge on my return home.
The second time, I crossed it with far less hesitation and a greater sense of confidence.
I can do this.
