“Do what you fear the most,” read a note magnetized to Ben’s old apartment in Pittsburgh. I met Ben in grad school, and it was my first time visiting him after we had gone our separate ways. And I haven’t forgotten that note. It struck me as bold, as courageous, as, well, really fucking scary.
So when Chance advised me to “commit to fear,” I naturally thought of Ben’s fridge. Chance says that “discomfort is a barometer with which to measure how important something is,” and I’ve heard others say that anxiety is a signal – and we have to try to separate the important message our body is sending us from the less meaningful noise.
For me, that noise is often in my head. You have to understand: Though I was raised in a poor household, I’m highly educated; I was a first-generation college graduate and earned a graduate degree from a respected Research I institution. I also began a PhD before deciding that it wasn’t for me (which ended up being one of my best decisions to date.)
And what does my head relish? Conjuring up artificial fear via negative hypothetical narratives – i.e., “If I even attempt to do x, then surely this will blow up in my face so horribly that I’ll be traumatized yet again.” In short, my brain loves to catastrophize, if I let it ruminate on anything long enough. (Negativity bias meets trauma survivor, ya know?)
But what of the more instinctual fear, the kind that rises even when I haven’t had the time (or energy) to ruminate and convince myself that catastrophe is imminent?
Well, that means there’s something at stake, something to lose, right? Isn’t fear a complement to envy?
If that’s the case, then what happens if I listen to it? What happens if I can hear the instinctual valuation of someone or something and intervene to do my best in holding onto that person or thing? What if, fear really is power, if I can ride its wave instead of struggling against it?
Ben’s getting married this year, and I’m his best man. I’m afraid of his love and the expression of it, and, in turn, expressing it to him. And I’m going to do it despite – or maybe even because of – that fear. I’m going to ride the wave not only because he and our connection are important to me – but also because what is there else to do?