Not Gonna Happen
A little over a year ago, I blogged a list of things I’ve never done. And with the exception of bringing several short stories to completion (Yay, me!) everything on that list is still true. And you know what? That’s OK with me. Some things, even the good things, just don’t have to happen.
This past summer, I ran and biked in the Danskin triathlon. I had been training to do the swim too. But after one afternoon swim in terrifying open waters (Yes, I probably exaggerate, but it was no less horrifying to me) I abandoned that goal and got a good friend of mine to do the swim for me. Sweet relief! My justification at the time was that I had not sufficiently trained, which was totally true. I needed swimming lessons. I needed time to deal with my fears (the irrational, illogical, emotional ones). I needed to spend more time at the pool, at the lake, at the beach, get used to being in the water. Great. I called it a plan and settled on next year.
I promised myself I’d think about next year’s Danskin in about five months, so that I could start training in six months because when it comes to swimming I have a LOOONG way to go. Plenty of time.
Oops, time’s up. That time is now.
SO. Now I’m thinking about it, just like I said I would. And you know what I think? I don’t wanna. I really don’t. Who gives a shit if I can’t swim half a mile in open water? I can swim to the edge of the pool, to the closest buoy when I have to and wait for help just fine. I can jump into a pool feet first, grab a baby if I have to and get to the shallow end. I can teach my kids how to wear a life jacket. And I can take them to the public pools with life guards on duty. That’s what I’ve always done, that’s what I’ll continue to do.
So there’s that problem solved. Whew. I, for one, feel MUCH better.
Now I just have to somehow come to peace with this decision, instead of feeling guilty about it. Instead of feeling as though I gave up. When is it important to face your fears and conquer them? When do you decide to accept them and let them go?
I am claustrophobic. Do I need to face that fear? Perhaps, but to what degree? I will never tour Natural Bridge Caverns. I will never explore the crawl space in my attic. I will never again attend a concert unless I am given my own seat so I can enjoy the peaceful bubble of space that my seat provides. Am I missing out on some wonderful gift that life has to offer me? Perhaps. But I really don’t give a shit.
I am afraid of natural bodies of water. When I was 18, I decided to face that fear. I got certified to scuba dive. I went diving in a lake with zero visibility. I was able to tread water in a pool for 30 minutes. THIRTY minutes. (In order to pass, I had to do it without hyperventilating. Third time was a charm.) I donned all the suffocating gear and went diving in Cozumel. More than once. So I tackled the claustrophobia and the open water all at once. Fear faced. Mission accomplished. Am I over it? Hell no. Do I need to readdress my fears again, nearly 20 years later, just to prove something to myself? To anyone else? I think not.
I am terrified of cockroaches. It is stupid? Irrational? Silly? Yes, yes, and yes. Do I need to go on Fear Factor and sleep in a bed of cockroaches so I can say I faced my fear? Um. No. Is it simply okay to instead, when I see a cockroach, run screaming from the room, curl into the fetal position, and wait for my husband to come home and kill it? Yes, actually. That’s just fine with me.
I got nothing to prove. Some things are just NOT gonna happen.
This past summer, I ran and biked in the Danskin triathlon. I had been training to do the swim too. But after one afternoon swim in terrifying open waters (Yes, I probably exaggerate, but it was no less horrifying to me) I abandoned that goal and got a good friend of mine to do the swim for me. Sweet relief! My justification at the time was that I had not sufficiently trained, which was totally true. I needed swimming lessons. I needed time to deal with my fears (the irrational, illogical, emotional ones). I needed to spend more time at the pool, at the lake, at the beach, get used to being in the water. Great. I called it a plan and settled on next year.
I promised myself I’d think about next year’s Danskin in about five months, so that I could start training in six months because when it comes to swimming I have a LOOONG way to go. Plenty of time.
Oops, time’s up. That time is now.
SO. Now I’m thinking about it, just like I said I would. And you know what I think? I don’t wanna. I really don’t. Who gives a shit if I can’t swim half a mile in open water? I can swim to the edge of the pool, to the closest buoy when I have to and wait for help just fine. I can jump into a pool feet first, grab a baby if I have to and get to the shallow end. I can teach my kids how to wear a life jacket. And I can take them to the public pools with life guards on duty. That’s what I’ve always done, that’s what I’ll continue to do.
So there’s that problem solved. Whew. I, for one, feel MUCH better.
Now I just have to somehow come to peace with this decision, instead of feeling guilty about it. Instead of feeling as though I gave up. When is it important to face your fears and conquer them? When do you decide to accept them and let them go?
I am claustrophobic. Do I need to face that fear? Perhaps, but to what degree? I will never tour Natural Bridge Caverns. I will never explore the crawl space in my attic. I will never again attend a concert unless I am given my own seat so I can enjoy the peaceful bubble of space that my seat provides. Am I missing out on some wonderful gift that life has to offer me? Perhaps. But I really don’t give a shit.
I am afraid of natural bodies of water. When I was 18, I decided to face that fear. I got certified to scuba dive. I went diving in a lake with zero visibility. I was able to tread water in a pool for 30 minutes. THIRTY minutes. (In order to pass, I had to do it without hyperventilating. Third time was a charm.) I donned all the suffocating gear and went diving in Cozumel. More than once. So I tackled the claustrophobia and the open water all at once. Fear faced. Mission accomplished. Am I over it? Hell no. Do I need to readdress my fears again, nearly 20 years later, just to prove something to myself? To anyone else? I think not.
I am terrified of cockroaches. It is stupid? Irrational? Silly? Yes, yes, and yes. Do I need to go on Fear Factor and sleep in a bed of cockroaches so I can say I faced my fear? Um. No. Is it simply okay to instead, when I see a cockroach, run screaming from the room, curl into the fetal position, and wait for my husband to come home and kill it? Yes, actually. That’s just fine with me.
I got nothing to prove. Some things are just NOT gonna happen.
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"A man's gotta know his limitations"