According to my roommate who is an Improviser here in Chicago, one is supposed to run toward the fear. Once you figure out the thing you are afraid of, do it. And then that thing isn’t so scary anymore.
She was taught this in improvising but she applies it to life. She was encouraging me to do the same thing.
And I’m trying. I’m leaning into the fear. I’m growing. I feel it. And I think the more I grow, the more aware I am of those parts of myself that have atrophied. For example, I need to forgive myself for some things. I need to extend grace to myself. I’m scared to do it but I am leaning into it.
Psalm 56:3 has been my touchstone for as long as I can remember: “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” So I trust him as I lean and though it makes me feel slightly better, the leaning is still uncomfortable, like a slow moving rollercoaster–not necessarily bad but funny and strange. I laugh a lot at the weirdness of it all. I grimace and make awkward silly faces.
I would rather be uncomfortable and growing than stagnant and complacent. And though I can’t grow in all directions at once, I’ve picked one and I’m leaning into the fear. Sooner rather than later, there will be another fear to conquer because this one won’t be so big and scary anymore, and I’ll lean into that. I refuse to live a deeply rooted life, one where I am unable to lean, unable to move towards the fear.
What are you afraid of? Run towards it.