Ironic, Actually

A couple days ago, I posted my first ever vlog. It was  just me reading an old blog from December 2018 called, "Courage, Actually." I chose it specifically because it's about accepting life's challenge and fearlessly stepping outside your comfort zone. Making and posting a video of myself was a big step outside my personal comfort zone - in fact, I have long said it's something I would never do - so I felt the topic was timely and appropriate. Reception of the vlog among my Facebook friends and followers was immediately positive. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Courage for the win.

I worry, though, that I have falsely painted myself as some courageous-comfort-zone-and-fear-defying crusader. In reality, that's just not me. Not these days...and I think it's time for me to come clean. It's kind of ironic, actually. And hard for me to admit. This might be the barest I have stripped myself in a long time.

For the past few months, I have been mired in fear. It started as a niggling little fear. I thought I could push it away, get past it, ignore it, pretend it's not there. Nothing worked. It just kept coming and coming relentlessly until it became near constant and unavoidable. My anxiety levels went through the roof. My behavior began to change. I became someone I didn't particularly like.

You see, I thought I was strong. Fearless. Courageous. I'd done all the stuff I detailed in my vlog and blog. I traveled internationally, published novels, made things happen. I errantly assumed that my fearless strength would apply to every avenue of my life. I was wrong. Woefully, horribly, hurtfully wrong.

The fear that I'm up against runs strong and deep. It's entrenched in my psyche. I truly thought I'd conquered it. I truly thought everything else I'd done in my life would keep it at bay. I was good. I was strong. I was fearless. Nothing could touch me. Then it did. It reared its ugly head and tormented me and tormented me. Until I made an egregious mistake.

In the aftermath of that mistake, I came to a realization - I can't fight this one alone. And I need to fight  it. I need to defeat it. If I ever want to have the one thing that I really, really want to have in this life, I must. I discovered that I was left with no choice. I had to seek help. So I did.

I grew up with a mother who wasn't a big fan of counseling or therapy or whatever you choose to call it. Getting help was anathema to her personal philosophy. Until it wasn't.....but that's a story for another day. I still hold onto a bit of that. I've pursued counseling several times in my life and found it exceedingly helpful, if not absolutely critical. But still... I find that I hesitate to "put it out there," so to speak. To admit my weakness? To admit that I'm not exactly the person I purported myself to be? That I'm not the person I thought I was? To admit that I need help? It's hard the eating crow. But eat it I must.

Because this is important, as mission critical to my life as it gets. I am not equipped to go it alone on this one. So even if I'm disappointed in me and y'all are disappointed in me, it's just something I have to do.

And it's something that I have to write about, talk about. I have long said that I write and post my inner thoughts and feelings because maybe, just maybe, someone will read my words and not feel so alone. In reality, it may not be as selfless as all that. There's a part of me that writes and posts so maybe, just maybe, someone will comment or message me that they feel the same way so I don't feel as alone.

This morning, in a matter of moments in fact, I will begin my latest foray into counseling. I'm trying a new counselor, a process I really, really dislike. I found an excellent counselor in Austin and I wish I could go back to her. I know she would be able to help me; she always did before. Now, though, I'm in Las Vegas and need someone local. So, we'll see. I'm hopeful, but breaking in someone new is disconcerting and worrisome. I requested someone who is LGBTQ+ friendly because being a lesbian isn't my issue and I don't want it to be an issue for someone to whom I am trusting my mental well-being. Still...it's a crapshoot. A connection is a must. Trust is a must. That stuff doesn't necessarily come easy for me, especially not when I'm required to strip myself naked and bare my very soul. Hold back? Don't give it all up? Guard myself? Do y'all not remember me saying that THIS IS IMPORTANT? I cannot hold back. I must give it all up. I must not guard myself. Because this has to work.

It has to.

So, I'll eat a giant serving of crow, own my shortcomings, and admit that I may not be the person I led you to believe I am. I think the best I can boast at this point is that I'm occasionally fearless, occasionally courageous. When it's easy. Like not when it's about facing something really scary, like snakes or heights. Or love. With those I always seem to let fear win.

Until now. Because I just can't anymore. There's too much riding on this. Too much I want. And the absolute only thing standing in the way is my fear.


"Yeah, my life is what I'm fighting for
Can't part the sea, can't reach the shore
And my voice becomes the driving force
I won't let this pull me overboard..."

~ lyric from Avril Lavinge, "Head Above Water"