the places that scare me

First of all, the title of this post comes from one of Pema Chodron’s many wonderful books: The Places that Scare you: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times. I recommend all her books (When Things Fall Apart is what got me started in 2009). At any rate, delving into these places is a recent obsession of mind. I’m going to see how long it takes me to say the “F” word– and no, it’s not the one you think it is.

Since I came back to this blog, it’s as if I’ve been on a mission to push myself beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone. To be fair, and honest, it was a combination of me being ready, the occurrence of this pandemic, and then the circumstances it created. It’s like I’ve been a seed just waiting for the perfect conditions to burst the hell out of my shell. That’s not to say I’m blooming all beautiful and everything, but it is to acknowledge that I’m taking much of what I’ve carried, and most of who I truly am, and turning it all over to you: loved ones and strangers. WHICH IS TERRIFYING. (I still haven’t said the “F” word yet).

Today I created a Facebook page. For the third time, or maybe fourth. Each page I’ve done (just a regular ‘ol personal page) has lasted less than a year. At first it’s fun, looking at other people’s pages, posting a picture here and there. And then comes the friend requests. Which at first, is exciting. I have had the privilege of meeting many wonderful people in my forty-one years. It’s just that I’m a true introvert, and when there are phone calls and emails and texts and then friend requests… I suddenly find myself totally overwhelmed. I’ve just made it seem like I’m regularly pursued paparazzi-style. I am not that popular. It’s hard to explain… and it might have something to do with having (or not having) boundaries. It also happens to be one of the reasons I hate texting and miss the days of taking your phone off the hook (that way no one could even leave a message. There’s probably a way to do this on my cell phone, I just don’t know how).

Anyway. Inevitably, I delete my account and finally, blissfully, disappear into social media oblivion. This is where I like to live. But there’s one problem with this: if you want to share something with people, social media is really the only way to do it these days. It’s one thing to write on here, anonymously (mostly), it’s quite another thing to have my name “out there”, possibly a photo, and (a sharp intake of breath) my words… for everyone to see including people I’ve known in elementary, middle, and then high school (the formative years). Yes, I know, I don’t have to accept everyone’s friend request. That’s another missing boundary I have…

So here’s the thing: I love teaching yoga. Without going into all the details, because my posts are long enough without getting distracted by too many tangents, I find myself teaching again. Before the pandemic, I was all set up for teaching a series of classes structured around “finding strength in stillness” (I cannot take credit for this, I overheard it somewhere recently but don’t remember where, so I can’t give the author their due). These classes were geared to those, like myself, who struggle with finding emotional balance (namely, with issues such as anxiety and depression). I had done the work of reaching out to a doctor/swing dancer acquaintance who liked the idea and who had a studio at her practice. All I had left to do was the advertising piece of it. Normally, perhaps for many others, this would not be a big deal: link it up to your facebook page, write a blurb about yourself, get a photo, etc. I went into full-on panic mode. And I’ve no doubt this is what propelled me into several weeks of not feeling well physically and then falling into a dark and moody downward spiral.

Then the pandemic hit.

So what was the big deal? I’ve said it before on this blog: I am scared of being seen. What if I show these words, allllll.. these words, to those I love– then what? I can’t control what they think, the opinions they form of me or of my writing. I can’t control whether or not someone will get upset by what I say, disappointed, angry, hurt. And what if whoever this imaginary person is decides they can’t love me anymore? Well, that last sentence may show how far back this fear goes (THERE, I SAID THE F WORD).

This is all way longer than I’d wanted. Of course it is, because this always happens. But I want to toot my own horn a little (we talked about this in our self-compassion group the other night): I made a personal Facebook page in order to create a group that will list my yoga classes. I made myself seen DESPITE BEING TERRIFIED. I didn’t change my last name, I didn’t use a fake name, I didn’t make another email address and use my middle name as my last name, and I didn’t use a combination of my name and my dog’s name plus a picture of her (all of which I considered… for awhile). It’s just me, my picture, and that’s it. Personal page today, group page tomorrow.

All day I’ve been a little jazzed; it’s a mess of nerves and excitement; adrenaline and fear… but it’s okay. I’m finally pushing through the walls of this small box I’ve made myself live in for so many years. And it feels scary as hell.

But holy shit, is it empowering.