Anxiety is a Liar

I leave in a few days to do something I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. And I’m terrified.
“What if it’s not everything I ever wanted?”
“What if I’m miserable?”
The worst one of all, “What if I fail?”
When it’s someone else’s life I’m a big proponent of Failing Up. It’s truly an important life skill. We can all keep trying progressively harder things and every once in a while fail. That’s how we get better. The key is to fail up: put yourself into a better position than you were in before you made your brazen attempt.
I’m prepared. I’m ready. I’m not flying by the seat of my pants, here.
Yet that spectre of failure looms over me. I have to remind myself, constantly, that I’m the only one judging me. The. Only. One.
People who love me are impressed by my motivation and my determination to move forward. People who don’t like me will hate on me no matter what I do, so they don’t matter.
Then there are the masses, the throngs of humanity who don’t even know I exist. They are blissfully living their lives unaware of my attempted exploits and couldn’t care less. When I’m honest with my overinflated ego, I know this to be true- because I’m not watching their every move either. I’m plotting my next one.
Anxiety has the best of me right now. Anxiety is a liar. Never trust it. Its logic is not sound, its methodology flawed.
I leave in a few days to fulfill a dream that seven year old me would find heart meltingly important. She’s the only one whose opinion matters.
She’s already smiling.
