New Year Introspection

In this new year, I have felt introspective. I constantly remind myself to be grateful for all the beautiful things in my life: my health, my family, my successful career, my wonderful husband, my house, etc. I know that I had to work for all of these things and allow myself to be proud of myself - which is a difficult task in itself. It's so easy for self-doubt to slither in and rewire my work into coincidence as if all that has happened was a fluke that might turn to dust and slip through my fingers at any moment. Looking at this mindset from a calm, focused viewpoint reveals to me the self-victimization this mindset leads to. I brought these things into my life and I am in control of maintaining them. I control my life.

Again, this is easier said from a calm mindset. When anxiety is buzzing inside my head, it is hard to keep a grip on reality. I have come to realize that I stand in my own way more than anyone or anything else does. It's a strange dichotomy because I have achieved anything I have ever set out to do, but the fear persists. Fear that I cannot do or be enough. This fear can be paralyzing and has led to a sort of stagnancy that has made me uncomfortable. it feels like itchy, loose skin that needs to be shed. The only way through is to face it. I have to push through my fear of not being enough in order to grow.

It is relieving to know everyone has some amount of fear of change. Even the most capable humans experience failure and fear. Understanding that these are part of the human experience makes it slightly easier to swallow. Slightly. It is equally comforting to know that fear doesn't have to be absent to take the leap. In fact, it seems to be an indicator of being on the right track. I am working to make peace with this and not let fear deter me from moving forward in my life. It's hard when staying in a certain place in life is so comfortable and safe. After working so hard just to get there, it is daunting to move on. However, something better could be just beyond our reach, waiting to be sought out.

I find this similar to my recent skiing experience. It was my very first time on a pair of skis - doing any kind of winter sport in general. After mastering the bunny slope twice, my husband decided I was ready for a blue slope. As the lift continued climbing, I could feel myself begin to shake. The slope looked to be about 75 degrees. "That isn't the one we're going down right?" I asked him as I anxiously peered at the skiers way below my feet. "I think it is," he was laughing to himself. "Only one way down".

I could feel my knees buckling as I shuffled up to the edge of the slope. It was so much steeper and farther than the bunny slope. I watched my husband expertly glide down and tried not to give myself too much time to think. I tipped over the edge and began picking up speed. Fast. Too fast. I tried snaking my way and my skis crossed and sent me tumbling down so hard I heard a collective "oooh" from the lift above. A man was nice enough to track down one of my skis I lost on the tumble. Did I mention how hard it is to clip into a ski while on a slanted surface? I managed to get it back on and continue down. I fell and lost a ski again. My husband waited patiently on a nearby flat surface as I struggled to stay upright long enough to clip in,

After struggling for ten minutes with skiers rushing past me, I sat on my butt and scooted down to the flat part next to Brian so I could get it on. I half skied-half rolled the rest of the way down. Later that day, Brian told me his favorite part of the day was watching me butt-scoot my way to safe ground.

I made it down didn't I? Even though I was afraid and I didn't do well the first time I made it to the bottom with no major injuries. So why would I let fear stop me from trying? It looked terrifying from the ski lift but in retrospect, even if I had to butt-scoot all the way down, I wanted to finish on my own. That's why Brian didn't intervene, he knew how badly I wanted to achieve this on my own. I want to try to remember this every time I think I'm not a good enough programmer or writer or know enough to buy a house. I can be afraid of new things and still attempt them. I can fail and still do better than if I didn't try. I can always slide down the mountain and climb my way back up.