Fear of Change
Over the last couple of days I’ve felt as if I’ve been flapping about in the breeze. And no, in case you’re wondering, I haven’t gone for a run without the support of a sports bra. I did that years ago and it’s unlikely I’ll ever do it again.
Although, I did make a couple of interesting discoveries at the time. First, I can single-handedly bring an entire construction site to a faster halt than a sausage sizzle stand. And I should know, because I once watched a sausage sizzle pull up in clear view of the same site and noticed a subtle hum of productivity still in motion that day.
As I pounded the pavement, unrestrained by the intricate engineering of a high-end sports bra, I sensed ogling eyes start to hone down. Rain had begun to fall, stopping wasn’t an option, so I constructed a makeshift harness, hands cupped firmly around each bosom, and continued my canter home.
Anyone with a generous frontal region knows that trying to restore order to jogging jubblies is about as effective as attempting to sink balloons in a bathtub. I eventually abandoned manual restraint altogether, which was oddly helpful. Once I stopped worrying about what the movement looked like and committed fully to a Baywatch-style rescue run, it actually felt liberating. My norgs then could take care of waving to each of the construction workers as they whistled my way, in-turn restoring some much-needed manners to the situation.
The flapping feeling I’m dealing with now is similar, but not identical. On closer inspection, I think I’ve finally identified its source. Change.
In the new year I’ll be launching a small creative business after a small run of failures. And, if I’m honest, it has me feeling much like that unrestrained run. Concerned about what others might think. Slightly out of control. Quietly terrified that I’ll throw everything so far out of shape that the whole lot will come crashing south.
In the past, when this kind of unease surfaced, I shut everything down. Production halted. Retreat initiated. However, this time, deadlines are forcing me to keep moving.
Much like that day on the pavement, I’ve tried to restrain the doubt with distractions, diversional techniques, and, dare I say it, mantras. But experience has taught me these only ever offer temporary relief.
So instead, I’m borrowing from the lessons of my bouncing frontal region. Rather than trying to constrain fear, or allowing it to bring me to a standstill, I’m accepting its presence. It can bounce around all it likes. I’ll keep going, and the flappy feeling can do what it needs to do.
Strangely, once I started embracing the feeling of being slightly out of control, much like when I removed my manual constraint while jogging, the whole thing started to feel exhilarating.
Strangely, once I stopped fighting the sensation of being slightly out of control, much like when I abandoned my manual restraint mid-run, the whole thing began to feel exhilarating.
So with fear still present, but acknowledged, all that’s really left for me to do is keep bouncing forwards.
