Move from Fear to "Fearce"
I’m afraid. I haven’t been taking care of business and it’s getting out of hand. Little things, but they’re adding up.
My spending is loosey-goosey, way too much money going to the altar of Starbucks. And I have clothes tossed all over my bedroom. I can’t find my hamper for whites, so they’re piled in a corner of my closet. I’m still getting work done, but just doing what needs to get done. My business is going okay; but it's just moving towards where the money is, not in the direction of my dreams. Lately, there haven’t been any to-do lists and I’ve kind of forgotten what the overall plan is. It’s just been me, my dreams and my gut, keeping it together for now. The writing’s on the wall, though; I’m mos def making the devolution from waltzing to crashing through life.
But I could ignore it. It isn’t really that bad yet. The things about which I’m afraid are still manageable. There’s money in my account. I exercised. I still have clean laundry and I can definitely justify the daily pilgrimage to the caffeine Mecca since I’m getting breakfast there, not coffee (“Which is somehow better!?!,”I say to myself even as I write this). I’m still doing work I love, even if I’m way more dreamy/floaty than fierce/focused about it.
I figure, going at this rate with no changes, I could muddle along for another few months before I really need to wake up and (not) smell the coffee. I could wait until my life starts unraveling, which it inevitably does when I’m not taking care of business. Until my recovery spirals or I waste another month watching the new Dynasty instead of trying to change the world. I’ve done it before, a lot actually, and I’ve pulled myself out every time; usually coming back stronger than ever. I could let my life crack and then make some big dramatic gesture that pulls me away from the brink of despair, only to begin again with those small homely steps that when taken, always bring me back to my core self and the life I value. I totally could.
Or I could face the fear now. I could “Lean-in,” as my Lean-In compadres say (Hey Linda, hey Amy), and face the discomfort of realizing that I’m slipping. That my dreaming: doing ratio is off and I need to rebalance the scales. I could own the fact that things have gotten fuzzy and passive and that instead of wading in and shoveling through the muck, I’ve retreated to rationalizations and YA fantasy novels about women who actually ARE making their dreams happen. The urge to evade the fuzziness is strong in me. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. There are lots of hard work, scary conversations and annoying action-planning between me and my dreams right now.
But fuck it. I’m not going backwards. Or at least not any farther. I know what it feels like to be alive and aligned with my values; I know the sensation of purpose coursing through me like an electrical current; it’s beautiful, it’s holy, it’s why I think we’re supposed to be here on this planet, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give that up now. So yes, there’s fear; it’s unpleasant and it would be really nice to avoid it right now. But I know where that leads, and it’s no-where good, so I’m planting my feet and getting ready to duel with my bullshit, because it’s either my fear or my dreams and there’s no way going to let them down.
What do you do to get “fearce” when you’re afraid?
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