They say there are one thousand different names for fear, and I think I must be intimately familiar with at least 1,001. Every one of them terrifies me, paralyzes me, leaves me in a state of inaction difficult to explain to anyone else, much less comprehend it on my end. It isn’t obvious. On the outside I look normal enough, I think, though perhaps my nervous chatter and ragged cuticles belie my inner churn.
It is time to have more faith, to live as though I know things will work out instead of suspecting a disaster around every corner, to believe that I am exactly where I’m meant to be and will not move forward unless and until I’m ready for what comes next. I remember being told that I don’t need to know the entire journey to take the first step; all I need to be able to see is the very next step in front of me. And I’m completely convinced that living in statis, in fear, in a land of confusion, serves no one well.
I’ll be throwing five garbage bags work of stuff, junk, my life’s infinite detritus into the alley before this time tomorrow. It’s time to live in faith rather than fear, and letting go of everything I think I need is certainly a good first step in that direction.