“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” ~Walt Disney
Sometimes I suspect even the most courageous people are total wimps behind closed doors. But just behind closed doors. When it comes time, they step it up, dab the mascara that ran down to their chin (or the snot they smeared so that it gets nice and crusty on their cheek), and become who they are for the world.
Despite my successes – full-ride scholarships, well-received performances, glowing recommendations…I get scared all the time. I shake with the anticipation of submitting an application for a 8-week midwifery workshop. I breathe so fully and determinedly before an audition to calm myself down that it sounds like I’m huffing aerosol. I hesitate on clicking “Purchase”, “Agree”, or “Send”, and sometimes I cross the street to avoid this guy that is always selling newspapers by my office, even though he is totally suave and harmless and calls me things like “Hollywood” for wearing sunglasses.
But I don’t live in fear. In fact, I make it a point in my daily internal dialogue to accept most of my fears as baseless and ego-based – not always easy, but usually effective in dissipating them. That’s why I have been struggling so much with choosing among the many many many many paths towards midwifery and making a commitment to any of them. My own hesitancy is more of a problem than the programs themselves – I know this is what I want, I dream about it every day, and yet…I wait. Why?
Sometimes I tell myself its numbers. Investing in any experience is daunting when you have this much money. Then I quickly transition to worrying about time, as if 24 years is this magical age wherein if you don’t start living your dream RIGHT NOW it will never happen because in 12 months you will be decrepit and senile and covered in infectious rashes that disallow you from normal contact with other humans. But if you commit TOO QUICKLY than before you know it you will be looking back on life with retrospective FOMO. I quickly descend into a dizzying puzzle of what-ifs, buts, and maybes. At least I’m not missing out on self-inflicted insanity.
The ironic part is that these worries – money, time, and regret – represent the absolutes of all that I don’t value. Money is superficial in and of itself, and useful for what you DO with it, not for sitting around as a flickering number in your bank account. Why should I worry about money if using it will take me to my ultimate goal? I was raised to be sensibly thrifty, but also to do what I love. Spending money on bettering yourself in terms of skills, knowledge and experience (as opposed to trendy objects, shitty processed food, and Facebook stocks) is always justifiable, even when the results aren’t quantifiable.
And time? Don’t even get me started. As my beautiful, thriving, impressively-more-active-then-me, yogini healthy superstar mother visits this week, I remind myself that there is always time for life.
And thanks to Mom’s support (and down payment) I enrolled in the workshop. 🙂