Jumping off cliffs... it's what I long for

Fear is a crazy word. Lately, it seems like it's THE current buzz word.  Our present culture is fraught with adages and eloquent quotes encouraging us to confront our fears, lean into our fears, embrace our fears.....  And the promise is wealth, success, an expanded world view.  (hashtag No limits)

I LOVE the idea.  I'm a type A personality and consider myself a leader. A go-getter. When I decide to do it... watch out!
I'm all in!
I'm ready.
I make a list of my fears, write an action plan, set a goal and a timeline. "YAHOOOOO!"

I get all pumped up, "YEAH! Let's do this!!!"

An image of a bungee jumper flashes through my mind!

Big gulp." WOOOHOOOOO!!!"

I look around for the cliff off which I will plunge. I've never been so ready to jump and feel the wind rushing in my ears, to feel the euphoria of FEARLESSNESS.

I imagine the animated stories I will share with others who have also taken the plunge. We will laugh and holler, crashing our cold mugs of foamy beers together as we pat each other heartily on the back, awed and impressed by all the heroic prowess in the room.

I happily put on my parachute, just in case (though I am sure it is unneeded) strap a pack full of survival supplies to my back.

I'm sure I am in tip-top shape, educated, talked out and ready for the jump of a lifetime. "BRING IT"

I looked intensely, adamantly, ferociously, like a woman on the mission of a lifetime, searching for the cliff.

Then waiting. Convincing myself that active waiting after a completely concentrated effort was advisable.
So long I waited.  So very, very long.
Looking and waiting. Ready and pumped.
My enthusiasm began to wain and my cries became weaker, "yey"


Days turned to weeks and weeks to months as I waited for the BIG opportunity to stick it to my fears. My backpack became too heavy so I put it in the corner.  Antsy, I wonder what I had been so pumped up for. I continue to passively look for my BIG fear break but I returned to business as usual promising myself that I will face the fears when I have the opportunity.

"Someday," I vow, "I am SOOOOO gonna beat those fears.  It just must not be the time. Fate has spoken"

Then one Tuesday in the middle of a boring month, I woke up in the middle of the night with a tiny (almost invisible) epiphany bulb over my still groggy brain. "All this waiting to face my fears is avoidance."
Disappointment settled deep inside my soul, in the part that just knows things.
In a moment I realized that:
Facing my fears is quiet.
Anticlimactic.
The most terrifying, soul-rattling, hand shaking, sometimes tear inducing whisper.

It is a daily, sometimes an hourly, or in my case, minute to minute choice to not give up. Alternately sweaty and freezing, climbing and falling, breathing or not, crying or whimpering, standing or running. Never quitting.
It is silence.
It is lonely.
There is no wind rushing in my ears, no parachute or survival pack. It is choosing to push forward into the dark unknown of a new normal, not really knowing what the end result is going to be. Alone.

What I have learned:
I will be bruised. My world will feel a bit crumbly. But not really. Well, sometimes. But mostly I will get to know myself in new ways. I will experience a different side of strength, the quiet side, one I never knew about before. (Or thought was a myth)

It gets a little easier to watch my fears collide into and smash my comfort zone. My capacity to LIVE is expanding.  Ohhhh don't worry, I still see a mountain of fears in my path, big ones. Ones I kept buried and hidden for a very long time. But they don't look so formidable these days. They look like a journey. A hard one, but the right one.

I have given up on the idea that it will be magical or wildly exhilarating. The concept of a flying leap into a new realm of enlightenment left me somewhere between ouch and BOIIIIIING. The powers that be make your comfort zone sound small, depressing, suffocating, insecure, with a supreme false sense of safety. (If it was all those things exactly why is it called a comfort zone??? )

I was none of those things. I was warm and comfortable, wrapped in my fears.  I had a firm grasp on my world.  (until Brene Brown shook it.) My control crumbled and I saw my comfort zone as the glass house it was. Only in hindsight does my comfort zone look small, unfriendly, and unwelcoming. I can't go back.

The only choice is to keep moving forward. Into the great unknown. (If that sounds exciting and romantic to you, you haven't heard a word I've said )

What about you? 
Have you faced fears? 
What was your journey like? 
Has it been a process? 
A deep and abiding choice? 
Or was yours easy and exciting? (if it was I WANT to hear about it. #lyingnotlying)