Last week I took a risk. I saw an advertisement via Twitter for “Adventure!” and I took the bait. I sent in the requested contact information and even BEGGED to be accepted via a postscript tacked to the end of my very brief email.
I was promised the need for a passport and a machete. Instead, I got to choose my own adventure. My adventure does NOT involve the need for a machete – but the machete seems like a MUCH safer option now that I’ve submitted my own risk IN WRITING to the Adventure! staff.
In the few days since I received my acceptance email and invitation to the secret Facebook group I have looked closely at the life I’ve created. I notice now that while I thought I’ve been dreaming and scheming for the future that really I’ve been marking time.
I haven’t even been marking time as the freaking Drum Major; Large and IN CHARGE. Nope – I’m Flute #5 buried somewhere in the middle of the block where I can mark my position from both sides and stay safely hidden. I’ve made a few peeps – but otherwise have worked to stay in-line and invisible.
I have set a goal. I think this is the first real goal I’ve set for myself in a really long time. I’ve put myself out there to *strangers*. And, these nice people who know only that I share their desire for Adventure! share words of encouragement even as my brain is screaming “Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger!” and begging me to flee into the shadows.
I realize now that fear has paralyzed me for nearly 20 years.
Fear is a Dick.
In the next 24 days I’m going to re-teach myself to dream *through* the fear. I’ve made a commitment. Now I need to plan and then follow through with the whole shebang.
I’ve let myself become a person I don’t really like. I’ve let myself lose hope. I lost control of my direction. I’ve let myself become a victim – and I’m NOT okay with that.
I’m done with the shenanigans. Fear needs to start fearing ME.