i'd rather be scared random one off

Usually I post journal entries after they’ve been safely hidden in my journal for some time. But today I thought I’d just journal here instead. Cut out the middle man.

I was feeling overwhelmed today. Putting my feet on the ground while I drank my coffee didn’t help. An extra prozac didn’t help. A cold Diet Coke just made my stomach hurt. So naturally my last resort was the swings.

I do my best thinking walking lap after lap around the park or pumping my legs in and out to get higher and higher on the swings. In the mental stillness of physical activity I can be honest with myself about what’s been gnawing at me all day. I’m scared. Even when it doesn’t look like it, when despite everything I put one foot in front of the other to move forward; underneath I’m still scared. Scared of making the wrong choices. Scared of not making any choices. I’m scared to go on this trip. I’m scared to not go. I’m scared I’ve ruined everything. I’m scared I’m ungrateful. I’m scared I’ll come back and nothing will have changed. I’m scared I’ll come back and everything will have changed. I’m scared to be impulsive. I’m scared to miss out. I’m scared of my own expectations.

But knowing I’m scared doesn’t scare me. Naming it puts me at ease. Because I’m scared everyday but I still do it. I still show up, I still tell people I love them, I still smile at strangers, I still choose to live despite the part of my brain that wishes I would stop. Because there was a time when I wasn’t scared, but it’s because I didn’t care. I’d rather be scared and care, than be numb and empty.