I am embarking on a new endeavor, and after my first experience I am feeling like I was just told I have three months to live. It's all so horribly, horribly illogical; I don't feel well and I loathe the fact that I can't really articulate why I don't feel well.
What if I can't do this?
What if I fail?
Who will be disappointed?
What if I embarrass myself?
What if I'm not as good as others think?
What if doing this takes up all of my free time?
I could go on and on and on, and the questions wouldn't make any more sense. Yes, even I know the answers to the above questions:
A: In fact I can. Others have and I can too.
Q: What if I fail?
A: There isn't a "fail" here, there is only a "try". If it ends up not working out, then so be it.
Q: Who will be disappointed?
A: For the people that truly matter in my life, no one.
Q: What if I embarrass myself?
A: I already have a doctorate in embarrassing myself.
Q: What if I'm not as good as others think?
A: It doesn't matter what others think, only what I think.
Q: What if doing this takes up all of my free time?
A: It will not, and besides, I can make this work time wise.
You see though, therein lies the problem: I know the answers but yet I still feel this way. I suspect that, in the end, the only "cure" is to march forward. Maybe, just maybe, what I am afraid of is simply being afraid. That's a tough statement to make coming from someone like me, but as I often say, "it has the benefit of being true". It's at times like this that I fall back on that great philosopher of modern times, Sylvester Stallone.
I can't think of a good way to end this posting, so I'll simply, well, end it.
Here's to trying.