Do Something That Scares You
Do Something That Scares You
When Life Hits Hard, Hit It Back
Growth is painful, and often, we must be forced into it by circumstances like a breakup, job loss, or even a war. Cultivating the ability to gently push ourselves outside our comfort zones prepares us to face such circumstances with courage and resilience.
Lately, the world has been a scary place to live in.
In 2020, a pandemic shut down Earth. Then, America had a riotous race reckoning, Russia randomly bombed its neighbor, terrorists slaughtered thousands of unsuspecting Israelis, and the economy started swirling down the drain.
I could list more, and each of us could list a litany of troubles in our personal lives that have twisted about these events, like ivy on trees. But people have hit on these troubles so much and so insistently that my spine’s been compressed about two inches, and I’m weak about the knees.
So, instead of cowering as life punches us again and again, why don’t we hit it back a bit?
Here’s a list of ways we can grow by standing up to scary things in order of difficulty, from the easiest to the most advanced. Mind you, I’m no expert. But sometimes, more than head knowledge recited in academic halls, we crave the kind of knowledge that’s been laughed, wept, and birthed into existence.
Level 1: Go on Random Jaunts
Skydiving, speed dating, touching a frog—any of these things might send a shiver down your spine. And it is so much fun to take the dare and “do it,” whatever “it” may be.
I’ve skinny-dipped in the Eisbach in Munich and nearly smacked into a surfboard. Eaten buttered snails and chicken feet (not together). These things are fun, and the adrenaline reminds me I’m alive.
Level 2: Take Calculated Risks
People get high on risk. They’re called gamblers, serial entrepreneurs, and serial killers. If your inclinations trend that way, I beg you to ignore everything I say here.
But if you’re the kind of person who won’t move forward with anything unless it’s 100% certain—been through a vigorous, peer-reviewed scientific study with results replicated by other studies at least seven times—learning to take risks is absolutely a must.
Many of us have been burned in the dating pool, a pool that many of us suspect contains a high concentration of hydrochloric acid. One of my friends, after having dated a few handsome faces that concealed loser hearts, bundled herself away into singleness, only to find that she was unhappy. Her dream is to marry and have six children, and she wasn’t taking steps to pursue it. So, instead of focusing on her fear that the next guy would turn out to be another loser, she decided to use her knowledge of the large volume of low-quality guys to inform her search. This meant, practically speaking, that she would have to prepare herself to date around for a while before settling on one person with whom she could pursue an exclusive relationship.
It was a risky plan—because she could end up wasting a lot of time on mediocre or even harmful relationships—but she calculated that the risk was worth it for the potential reward of a solid husband.
Level 3: Behave in a Way That’s “Out of Character”
For years, I’ve been fascinated by the way my idea of other people’s idea of who I am fetters me. In my school days, the stereotype the classroom assigned me was “nerd”—a quiet bookworm with glasses. Of course, children are bound to stereotype one another. Their perceptions of others are still simple. But would you be shocked if I told you the adults were complicit, too? My teachers relied on me with a quiet sort of desperation, knowing I would toe the line, dot the “i’s,” and cross the “t’s.”
By the time I developed self-awareness, I got so used to wearing this costume of expectations that I feared to cast it off. I couldn’t tell them I wanted to kiss the class clown and wear lipstick while I did it illegally on the school roof. People would be shocked. God forbid that any sort of tremor should pass through the beige-carpeted living rooms of middle-class suburbia!
It’s not just sexuality that’s closeted in our culture.
Most of us are there right now, to some extent, though perhaps the door’s cracked. Don’t wait for a house fire to exit. Do it on your own terms instead.
Level 4: Engage in Honest Reflection
Honesty is the next step up from exiting the closet because you’re not only expressing to others who you really are—you’re admitting it to yourself.
So, you might be in the closet, hiding yourself from others because you know that your weirdness will be obvious once you come out. But what about those things that are less obvious, those things you could sweep under the rug and stroll away from whistling with your fingers in your ears? Your vicious jealousy, your midnightly ice cream sundaes, your inability to hold down a friendship. You like to disguise those as a sense of justice, the occasional snack, and “high standards” because you can get away with telling those lies to yourself.
Well, stop it now!
The funny thing about these self-deceptions is that, chances are, everyone can see the truth but you. It’s obvious, but you won’t face it because it will shake your world when you see you're not the person you believed yourself to be.
Level 5: Face Debilitating Fears
At the meet, my fingers and toes are buzzing. I've almost broken down twice over the last two days. The last thirty-six hours my eyes have burned like they wanted to close and never open again. Coach G. told me two weeks ago that she believed my training had prepared me to run my 800 meter race in under 2:23. For reference, the fifth fastest girl in MA that year would run a 2:19.45. This day is my last chance to PR.
I run behind the bleachers and begin to sob. Brief flashes of thought pierce the storm like lightning. "What will they think?" I wonder. Then, "I don't care. All I know is what I'm feeling." Feeling light-headed. Feeling my skin burning, then cool, then burning again.
My coach’s face is in front of me, blurry. She’s asking, "How do you feel?"
I look up at her face. I don't know how I feel. I was supposed to PR today. I can't move. I have to shut everything out. I can't be alive right now. I need to curl up inside of me. I feel bad. I can't be normal.
"Amelia. I need you to do just one thing for me now. Rest your thumb on your chest and breathe in for four. That's it. Now out six."
"I feel lightheaded." A whisper. Breathing does nothing. My last defense.
"You can't control everything, Amelia. You can't control other people, your teachers, what they want you to do. What happened in the past-- it's happened. Nothing you can do about it. But see here: there's one thing you can control and that's you. I want you to run this race, and I want you to enjoy it. Run and have fun. Don't think about anything else. Just do your best."
The 800 is being called. They give me post, the first spot, yay. Calm. I'm at the line. Oops; gun doesn't shoot. I am strangely calm. Nothing. I don't know.
BANG!
I am painfully aware of each movement. It's so floppy. We are slow, aren't we? 200 mark. That's one fourth. That front girl is really far ahead. Oh, just keep moving. I'm so clunky. The neck. Ouch. Blurry. Last one hundred. Julia is in second. What? Ok. Wonder what her time is. Sprinting. It hurts. Ouch. Everything. My eyes want to close and never open again. I let them. And I am done.
I am forever grateful to my coach for making me run that race. Had I gone home, my fear would have won mastery over me. But by running the half mile, I discovered that the thing that had triggered such deep and terrible anxiety was not really dangerous. I had made it through unscathed, despite my mind and body’s protestations that to run that race meant death.
My coach had assumed the role of a therapist at that moment. Calling up the doctor’s office is not glamorous like skydiving or dramatic like “coming out.” But starting therapy might be one of the scariest and most rewarding things you’ll ever do.
“All battles are first won or lost in the mind.”
Joan of Arc
God bless you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. It’s a harsh world out there, but if we train to face it, each one of us can be a hero.
Have you done something scary recently? Is there something you would add to this list of mother wit practices?
Comment below ☺
 | A guest post by
|