When You Feel Afraid, Recite What You Know

This week was an exorcism of all heavy, icky feelings - the ones I avoid feeling or talking too much about because they’re uncomfortable and make everyone else uncomfortable and that’s how things get weird (Insert smiley emoji with hands that no one ever knows how to interpret). I meditated, exercised, journaled and followed the self-care manuals you see shared all over Instagram. And then I cried. I was on the phone with an innocent USPS worker trying to track down a lost package and when nothing could be done, I cried like someone died. And then I cried some more. I didn’t need the package, I just wanted it so badly because I just needed to have my way for a second. Up until my adult life, I’m embarrassed to say I almost always got my way and in my thirties, not getting my way in a string of what is already outside of my control makes me feel like an unreasonable child. 

The first thing I got paid to do after college was write. I call it the “Almost Famous” chapter of my elderescence (the grey area between shit-show but also dying to be taken seriously). I was interviewing bands I loved, reviewing new albums and going to concerts FOR MONEY. It was my dream job and the start of my imposter syndrome, swaddled in fear. If I was overwhelmed or frustrated by something I didn’t want to do, I would go ride the ferry boats because it was the one place in Seattle I could fuck off for an hour or two without anyone bothering me. Wifi wasn’t that advanced yet so I’d buy a walk-on ticket for the Bainbridge Island ferry, treat myself to a cup of Ivar’s clam chowder and sit by the window, imagining the Garden State tracklist was the soundtrack to my wifi-free life. I’d ride from one side of the shore to the other and let the waves massage my brain for an hour until I started feeling inspired and mighty, then I'd step off the ferry and feel like I could go tackle the chaos of my twenty-two year old woes again.

There’s a fear and desperation we reach when we can’t control a damn thing. When I get angry, I either yell or cry and it’s usually the ladder. And then I spiral into thinking everyone is mad at me, something is wrong with me, and I should be medicated, bed bound in a cave away from all things socially acceptable. Or I go self medicate with a bottle of red and nostalgia playlists in the tub.

My skin doesn’t feel like my own right now. I don’t say that to be poetic or dramatic. When women become new mothers, they often say their bodies don’t feel like theirs anymore (not that this is even remotely on par with motherhood). Tomorrow, I’ll spend the day being my doctor’s science experiment, it’s the day I least look forward to once or twice a year, sometimes more. I’m not entirely ready to talk about my health so publicly but on paper, there’s a whole lotta boxes about my medical history I’m required to check and those little boxes make my hands shake every time I have to fill out any sort of patient form. So when I say my skin doesn’t feel like my own right now, it means my warrior body is being borrowed for tests and samples that will ultimately make me feel better, but for now, it all feels like an undoing of the parts that make me strong, sexy and able. Hospital gowns make me feel a confidence drought red lipstick can’t fix, like I’m in repair. 

It’s easy for me to throw a literal tantrum over all the things beyond my control, my health being one of the heavier things. I’ve spent the week assigning my fear to a bunch of other factors but this is it - this is the thing I’m so terrified of. The mantra for the week - when you feel afraid, recite what you know. Someone close to me had to recite this logic for me while I was mid-breakdown and this is what he and I both knew to be true. He’d say, “you’re fine, you’ve done this before. It’s going to be okay.” I could apply those words to most situations keeping me up at night lately. 

My fear and tears led me to feeling ashamed this week- ashamed for falling apart and feeling the fear I work so hard to swat away. I do this thing where I add “lol” to the end of serious conversations when I text. “Lol” has become my defense mechanism when something is a big deal but I really don’t want it to be a big deal so we’re just gonna not make a big deal out of it but it’s kind of a big deal. SIGH.  “My body is failing me lol.” “Tomorrow might suck a lot lol.” “I’m afraid it won’t be totally okay lol.”

Like the anxiety I used to feel the night before a big test, I can only recite what I know. And I know a lot to be true- more good things than bad. I can be scared and stay positive at the same time, both can exist. 

I’ll take the ferry into the city tomorrow. It might require every winter layer I own but I want my super powers that I feel from watching the waves until I’m mighty and trusting of my own currents. I’ll get extra vulnerable one day and maybe write about all those boxes I have to check on medical forms but that’s far less entertaining or inspirational than this push I hope to give you. It’s a push for me, but it’s also for you. 

I’m fine, I’ve done this before. It’s going to be okay. When you feel afraid, recite what you know. And go for a boat ride if you can.