Fearless

I worry myself into unhappiness.

Does anyone else do this? 

It might just be me, but I wanted to check. *Sigh.*

Honestly, the level of worry I experience regularly is more than a little concerning. Just last week I worried so much that I made myself feel utterly miserable and physically ill. Why was I worried? Because I was trying to talk myself into doing something that I knew didn't feel right. I'd been praying about a major life decision--the sort of decision that radically alters the trajectory of my life. I was trying to decide if I should clench my teeth, bite my tongue, and force myself through my final two semesters of college, or be done with "higher education" so that I can actually start living and learning the things that actually matter to me. If I do drop out, I will be not only a high-school dropout with a full-ride scholarship, but also a proud college dropout with a 4.0 GPA.

By all logical, rational, and reasonable measures, I should finish school. I am 24 credits away from graduating with honors and two minors. Based on everything my professor's have told me my entire college career, graduating would mean that I'd never lack opportunity. I "could get a job anywhere." With my talent, dedication, and hard work, I would be a fabulous addition to any grad school, company, or organization. At least, that's what people tell me.

It's what people have told me my entire life. "Oh, Esther! You're proficient at the violin and piano. You make beautiful quilts. You dance, sing, and create works of art. You could be a biologist, a teacher, a writer, a graphic designer, a therapist, doctor, researcher, or psychologist.You have such a great memory, you're so good at school, so dedicated, organized, and prepared. You're good at anything you set your mind to. You can do anything you want with your life."

And that's a good thing, right? Isn't it good to have people praise and believe in me? Isn't it amazing that so many mentors, family members, and friends want to support me? Yes! Yes it is, and I don't want to discount that because I recognize that there are people who work hard their entire lives and never feel recognized or supported in their efforts and accomplishments. Which I can only imagine would be unbelievably difficult. 

But I am living proof that there can be too much of a good thing. Not that I really mind being praised. If I did, I would probably be certifiably crazy. But what a lot of people don't realize is that too much praise can cause a lot of problems. I certainly can't speak for everyone, but in my case, all the compliments, family members bragging about me to others, or friends speaking highly of me actually paralyzed me. Which is wild! Absolutely crazy! Somehow all the pride, all the people who were happy because I was such a success--which by all counts of reason should have made me better able to take risks, be courageous, and truly do what brought me joy--made me afraid. 

Afraid that I wouldn't be able to meet everyone's expectations. Afraid that I would fail. Afraid that my work would be less than perfect. Afraid that I wouldn't know the answers. Afraid that my designs would be rejected. Afraid that I'd create something ugly. Afraid that my writing would lack direction or be riddled with grammatical errors and fallacies. Afraid that I wouldn't be worthy. Terrified of letting people see the real, messy, failing but trying, stressed out, emotional wreck, disorganized, sometimes idiotic, awkward and uncertain me.

When I decided which college to attend 4 years ago, my high school friends asked me "Why there when you could go to Juilliard?" When I changed my major from graphic design to psychology, my professors asked, "Why? When you could change the world with art?" And now here I am, seriously considering dropping out of college with no clear career plan and I am afraid that people will say, "You could have been anything. Now what are you?"

Now what am I? I have pondered this question almost constantly for the last week. I found myself unable to think of anything else. I became physically sick with the weight of my fear. And everywhere I looked I could see more reasons to fear. I worried that my new job was the wrong one and that I wasn't good enough at it. I worried that I'd chosen the wrong major and wasted my first year of college in design classes I would never use again. I worried that if I stayed in school I would graduate with nothing to show for it, and I worried that if I quit school there would be no way to prove that I hadn't wasted my life. The more I focused on my fear, the more fear there was to focus on. More questions that led to quandaries, more doubts that caused despair. 

I wish I could say I had a major epiphany and all at once my fear went away and knew with absolute certainty what I was supposed to do with my life. But I can't because I didn't. Instead, I found myself mulling over the word 'fearless.' I wrote it down in my planner, in my journal and on multiple days in my calendar. Fearless. That's what I wanted to be. Fearless. Such a word. Fearless as in "being without fear." In frustration I looked to God and asked, "Why can't I be fearless?" Then I glanced back down at a page in my journal where I'd written the word. But because of the way I'd written it, it didn't look like one word. It was two. Fear less. Fear LESS. Less as in "not as much." Not "I won't fear ever again" but instead, "I won't fear as much." I'll fear less about my life. I'll fear less about what others think. I'll fear less about my future and trust my life to God. I'll fear less about being perfect and focus more on being me. Each day I'll fear less. 

It's been 7 months since I first started writing this story. In that time, I did drop out of college, enrolled in an apprenticeship, and just barely graduated as a Wellness Consultant. I work four days a week at a job where I constantly feel like I'm failing. I am constantly unsure if I am giving good, applicable advise. I worry that I don't know enough and don't have the perfect answers. Which probably sounds like a terrible situation. After all, isn't it supposed to be a bad thing to feel like a failure? I used to think so, but now I'm not so sure. I used to be afraid that if I failed I wouldn't be worth anything to anyone. So I tried to be perfect so I would be worth it. But something's changed. While I do still want to be the perfect person for everyone, it's not because my self-worth is on the line but because I think I, and those around me, deserve it. I deserve to feel confident, knowledgeable, and feel good about the work I do, and the people I work with deserve to work with someone who cares, tries hard, and wants the very best for them. So I choose to fear less about fact that I fail, and focus more on the fact that I try. I fail all the time and sometimes that scares me. But I do trust God to work it out. I do trust that only good comes from each experience. I continue to study and learn so that I'll fear and fail less. And I am fearless--not without fear but not controlled by it.