Not Cease from Exploration

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

High Anxiety

As I write this I am operating on maybe two hours of what would best be described as "low grade" sleep.  My stomach feels like it is becoming a super-massive black hole.  My neck is sore.  What's it all about?


High anxiety.

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:

Q: What if I can't do this?
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.

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