Or something similar to this. Something like,
"Never let fear make your decisions." And it's like, BOOM. What? I shouldn't let my fear control me? It's all I know. It's all I am. I'm doing it wrong??
If we've been friends for a while, then you know that I have an absolute crippling fear of performance anxiety. You can call it stage fright I guess--
But when people are all,
"Yeah I get super nervous too when I speak in front of people." Then I'm like, yeah. It's that, but it's so much more. I'm having a total freak out panic attack. Panic attacks are gosh awful. They suck. So bad.
I let my fear take over me. I stopped doing anything that would get me wigged out. Anything music related that was in front of people? Over. Done. Public speaking-- even making a comment in a room with more than 4 people would completely freak me out. It was a serious problem. It was controlling my life.
I don't even know what exactly started me wanting to change really--
but I started with a fear journal. Seriously. (Journal nerds unite.)
-Donating blood was never a problem for me until the last few years. I broke into a cold sweat contemplating doing it again . .
So I signed up. And I went and did it. (And I did freak out internally). And then I wrote about it in my fear journal and was like BAM I did that. And then I signed up to donate again when the time came around.
Tons of musical numbers, speaking in front of large crowds. . . oh my heck, once recently I even sang in front of a bunch of people and I don't sing solos because I don't have a solo voice.
And then I get to write about it, and I pat myself on the back.
I did a violin solo. As an adult. In front of a huge crowd. And I felt sooo ridiculous at a recital next to 10 year olds doing my recital thing. But it was on my fear journal list, and so I did it anyway.
I'm happy to say that it is actually getting easier. But nearly every time, when I'm up doing that thing that is freaking me out, I wonder why I've done this to myself and what my gosh dang problem is.
But then I'm so happy afterward.
I've been meaning to sit down and put my thoughts into words for like, ever--
but then our house was robbed on Thanksgiving night while we were out of town. And that's a new, different kind of fear, you know what I'm saying?
I've said this before, and I'm not even kidding: my house is my buddy. It honestly feels like a close friend. I've poured my literal blood, sweat, and tears into making this house ours. And it feels like someone came in and violated it. They were everywhere-- in every room, and with the amount of things they took, they were in here for a long time.
Evidently, they spent the bulk of their time in my bedroom, and they were thorough. Under my bed, through my socks, my underwear, even my dirty clothes for crying out loud--
and a couple people were asking if we were going to move. Because we feel violated, you know?
I'm not moving. This is my house. You bastages that broke in don't belong here.
I don't feel safe, and I think that's natural. But how I do feel truly blessed, is that I was already working on not letting fear take over me, before this happened. So, I'm just gonna keep on keeping on. I guess this is my next fear journal entry, right?
Thanks for listening. Carry on.