The Paralyzing Fear Of Pursuing Your Dreams

7 Oct


This evening, following an early dinner of fish tacos and enough Diet Coke for three, maybe four years, Hilary and I took a walk on the beach.

“We should do this more often,” she said, and I agreed.  We both live five minutes from the water, a gift that is not lost on either of us.  I can actually see the waves crash on the shore from my pillow on a clear morning.

How incredibly lucky I am.

How incredibly lucky I am, I remind myself, when I start to obsess over how incredibly scared I am.

I do this thing with writing. It’s called “apologize for my work so I never have to face the realities of my failings.”

It’s called hiding.

There are always a plethora of excuses at my disposal for why my writing isn’t top notch.

I didn’t try that hard.

I’m too stressed.

I really didn’t have time to give it my all.  I hate that, you know?  One of these days I’m going to have the space to really devote to my work and I’m just going to kill it.  WRITING WILL BE MINE.

But until then…

I’m busy.

I couldn’t try my hardest.

These are comforting phrases.  They mean when I present my script to classmates I can say, “I didn’t give it my all this time” and sit back in my chair, resting easier.

They mean nothing, really.

At the moment I have time to write.  Hell, I quit my normal 9:00-6:00, soul-sucking corporate job so I could have time to write.

I’m not overly stressed.

I didn’t have an off day with a possible headache and clear, growing signs of mono, maybe.

I can give writing my all right now, and I should.

And yet…

I’m scared.

I’m scared to say, plainly and boldly, “Here I am.  Here is my best.”

On our walk, Hilary and I talked through a lot of things.  Homesickness, for one.  We’ve concluded that homesickness is a lot like running.  The pain never really goes away, but over time you grow accustomed to the hurt.

We talked about our dreams and wishes.  About the birds that were on the beach, all congregated as if to watch the sunset.

We talked Emma Thompson.

The tide grew higher, surprising us with its urgency, soaking us with salt and sand.  A golden glow topped Malibu, and my hair grew to comic book proportions.

“We’ve got this,” Hilary said.

“We’ve got this,” I replied, half meaning it.


(I’m scared.)

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3 Responses to “The Paralyzing Fear Of Pursuing Your Dreams”

  1. chelsea October 7, 2014 at 8:30 am #

    this is absolutely beautiful.

  2. V October 7, 2014 at 3:01 pm #

    Well I know what you’re saying, because I’ve been there before too, quite often. BUT, this post is very well written. You should be proud of what you’ve put together thus far.

    Never forget that writing, like many other creative outlets and pursuits, is a skill that improves with time and practice. It’s also a learning process. The more I learn about myself, the better I get at expressing myself through photos and sometimes, words.


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