I made a list of 100 things I should do that scare me. In 2020, I plan to complete all 100.
I think everyone has a conversation they’d like to have with someone, that they’re too scared to have. I’d rather not post details about what mine was, but suffice it to say that I made it happen.
When I was six, I broke my foot. In that moment, screaming for all I was worth, I learned new things about what pain could be. Driving to face this fear, I learned new things about what terror could be.
Adrenaline flooding my veins so that my skin and muscles were on fire. Electricity tingling through my fingers and toes. My internal monologue shouting and begging and pleading, Don’t make me! You can’t make me! My stomach threatening to reject the thousand calories I’d consumed over the prior forty-eight hours.
Level 5 isn’t high enough to describe it—it breaks the scale. I’ve dreamt vividly of life-and-death battles and felt less fear.
In the dreams, I ran away. This time, though, I walked—toward the danger.
And I did it. It’s done.
I think everyone has a conversation they’d like to have, that they’re too scared to have. There’s a reason we’re too scared to have it. We know it won’t go well.
I didn’t know it was possible, but I walked out feeling worse than I did when I walked in.
I wish I could end this on a more encouraging note, especially for the reader who really should have that conversation they’re afraid to have. But the truth is that if I could go back and convince myself to heed my rapidly quickening heartbeat and run away instead of walking toward, I think I’d do it without a second thought.
There’s one major upside to all of this. Up until this point, as I’ve looked over the list of fears I’d like to face this year, I’ve been gripped with dread. Now, my once high-level fears seem so trivial to me by comparison.
Jumping out of a plane? Let’s do this.