Letting Go of the Fear

I was driving with the windows down yesterday, enjoying the 70 degree weather and 90s Pop Pandora station streaming through my speakers. I was singing along, finally feeling rested if not still fatigued with a sickness that is taking its sweet time leaving my system. I thought about how great it was just to be able to see a beautiful day like that. It reminded me that I should remember to be really thankful because the universe is mysterious and infinite and it doesn't owe any of us jackshit.

I remember my dad telling me it was a miracle I was even alive. Not because I had a tumultuous entrance into this world, but because of all the places in all the universe, my molecules were in this place in this time, beside him as his daughter. I always think about that, but never long or often enough.

It entered back into my consciousness as I was smiling on the drive home yesterday. I thought "Wow, really, how lucky am I?" Not in that humble brag, not really thankful but pretending to be so I can still gloat without guilt kinda way. In the way that reminded me that even if I give thanks every day (not to anyone in particular - the universe itself most likely), I need to be thankful in a way that is equivalent to what I have. And what I have is endless. Therefore, I have to be endlessly thankful. The only way to do that is let go of all the fear.

Sure, I will always be the worrier. I will always be the girlfriend calling to make sure her boyfriend is not in a fiery wreck in a ditch somewhere. I am the daughter who will always call to make sure her parents are safe from the storm coming their way. I am the sister who will send links to my sibling to make sure she knows what's going on in her community. I am the person who knows real fear of death, who is afraid of every ache and pain, and who shakes a little in her boots when it comes to a handful of my own hangups.

But I have never been afraid of change and I have never been afraid of going the road alone. I have dined alone, learned alone, coped alone, traveled alone, and found my true self alone. I have no qualms letting go of the fear alone, though I know I am so lucky to be the opposite of that.

See, letting go of these fears is the only true way to be fully thankful of what I have. I can't fully enjoy my blessings if I'm always scared to lose them. I can't wholly appreciate them if I am caught up in worrying if what I have will always be here. Really, that's where all of my fear, all of OUR fears, come from in one way or another: losing what we have.

While I am thankful for my life, constantly fearing it will end is not a way to be grateful. To be grateful, all I have to do is wake up, thank the universe for cosmically coming together to form my atoms, and live the gift to its fullest.

This realization happened in the small space of my Cougar in a matter of seconds, but those seconds were enough to make an impression. I will grapple with fear for the rest of my life - hell, I haven't even crossed off more than one item on my gonna list of frights - but I will also be eternally grateful for the fact that I have things to be frightened about losing.

From now on, whenever I'm feeling the rush of dread edge closer to me, I will remind myself of all of the things I can't believe have been somehow placed in this universe so close to me:

My family, who for all their imperfections, becomes more perfect every year. // My friends, most of whom I've somehow kept my entire life. // My love, who is literally the best person on this planet for me and in some miracle, ended up only counties away. // My pets, who are the cutest bundles of insanity I've ever met. // My health, no matter its ebb and flow. I can workout, I can lose weight, I don't have to starve myself. // My brain, which has a capacity I still don't know the ends of. // My job, which actually gives me a chance to make a difference in hundreds of other peoples lives. // The fact that I know what really matters IS making a difference in other peoples lives. // All the art, food, film, music, people, events, politics, discoveries, and adventures I get to bare witness to. // My home, my senses, my laugh...

...all of it deserves so much more thanks than I will ever be able to give it, but I can start by being gracious enough to enjoy them every day of my life.

"Thank you, more please!"

And a laugh for the road...

Halfway There

I already regret choosing titling this piece with "Living on a Prayer" in mind. Now I have to listen to Bon Jovi at 9:30 a.m. What am I doing with my life?

Last week, I was powering through a hefty workload at the office, dealing with the typical jaw pain that comes in and out of my life as it pleases. I figured it would be another case of "Gotchu, sucka, see ya lataaaa!" pain, but it increased ever so sharply to full-on nausea inducing aching. As a person who never has headaches felt one coming on, I knew I was in for a world of pain. My wisdom teeth opened up a can of whoop ass on me.

I had been playing a game of phone tag with my newly chosen dentist due to my work schedule and theirs, but I took a moment out of my day to shut the door and make the call back. I'd had it with the pain and I was almost there. A nice woman helped me make an appointment first thing the next day, and my wonderful boss forced me to go home and rest. I felt awful for many more hours, but was more comfortable being on my couch and knowing in only hours that I would finally be boarding a train to Healthy Town.

I woke up way too early the next morning and still managed to be late driving to the edge of town to find my new mouth doctor. I was so happy to find it both calming and fancy. I dig fancy.

My hygienist brought me back immediately to take many an x-ray. I finally saw the devious little fuckers who have been torturing me for months, and I was surprised to see that they didn't look all that abnormal. In fact, they looked kind of non-threatening. I'd maybe even say cute, but they're fucking teeth.

I got a hardcore cleaning and consulted with the bigwig dentist for which the firm is named. She gave me some important advice about my genetically soft teefies and said they'd have to seal the shit out of them basically. I have no qualms with that. These supple babies have been causing me trouble my whole life. It's about time someone stepped up to the plate and said "Hey, you've got a nice smile, but your teeth are like sponges. Let's counteract that, shall we?"

Other than that, I came away with a super polished grill and a new love for flossing. (I'm obsessed.) I have to most likely get these wise molars removed, for which I have to be referred. They let me choose my referral myself, which is a bamf move if I do say so myself, and I don't say bamf because it's stupid.

Today I have to do some research on referral forms and then I'll be calling my self-selected oral surgeon. I'm still not groovy with the idea of being knocked out, but with many parental pep talks, advice from my sister, encouragement from my man, and a super stellar new dentist, I think it just might be alright.

I'm gonna do this.

The (Almost) End of a Chapter

Well here we are, Friday the 13th. On a day dedicated to irrational fears and bad luck, I can't think of a better day to update you on my own irrationality.

I've been playing this ping-pong for so many months that it seems almost like it's supposed to keep going. "I need to go to the dentist!" "But it's scary." "The dentist will be fine, I've never been scared of him before!" "But what if they tell you you need oral surgery?" "That's okay, it'll be worth it." "BUT WHAT IF YOU DIE UNDER ANESTHESIA?!"

Well, that bold little voice has been silenced rather suddenly by my baby sister's encounter with the teeth doctor. I know it's wrong to use your super awesome sibling as a guinea pig, but she was scheduled to get her wisdom teeth out long ago. Why not use her situation to my advantage by fiercely texting her to ask 5,000 questions and make sure she's alive?

She luckily had a great experience and had nothing but great words to say about the whole of it, and because of that, I feel free to call the dentist to make an appointment. I feel free to visit them without fear of their report. I feel free of this extremely stupid fear that has been weighing so heavily on my shoulders, day in and day out.

I can't wait to cross this off my list and move on to the next gonna, but in a superstitious move, I'm not going to be making any moves until the clock is well past midnight. I don't need any bad luck following me on my journey to wholeness!

Have a great weekend, y'all. See you Monday.

P.S. Would getting my hair cut like this on Friday the 13th be a bad move?

EFF IT, LET'S DO THIS!

(P.P.S. Please don't disown me, Kacey.)

Resolutions

On the first day of 2012, J and I woke up incredibly early, unzipped our tent, and looked onto a beautiful sunrise. We were nicely lazy, had some mimosas, and later cooked the traditional southern foods for good luck. But most of all, we talked about our resolutions with a real fervor. It was honestly the best start to a brand new year I've ever had, and I'm determined for that feeling to be the bookmark of 2012.

While we were naming and numbering our resolutions, he suggested that we write them down on a piece of poster board. It took me a couple of days, but I drew up a nice little list that we can put up to remind us of the things we're gonna do this year.

You can see the gonnas made it a la the overcoming fears resolution. While I feel like I'm in the process of kicking off the other four resolutions before and after it, I'm afraid I'm a little stuck on that pesky (and very important) number four.

See, I just can't force myself to call the dentist. I keep prolonging the process by double, triple, QUADRUPLE checking the list I have, making sure that I'm solid in my choice of dentist. I keep saying "Oh, I'm DEFINITELY going with that one for sure," only to reneg when I start feeling anxious about what comes AFTER I make the appointment. I really just need to shake the shit out of myself, "Spaced" style.

I NEED to go to the dentist to feel better. I NEED to stop worrying about things that might not even happen. I NEED to have that awesome post-teeth cleaning feeling in my mouth. I NEED to call one of these dentists before the end of this week, or else I'm gonna need an intervention... or ya know, just get J to put the phone in my hand and make me call.

I promise to have some uplifting/funny entries this week while I'm trying to get this stuff done. I'll be back Friday to let you know if I made progress on this latest gonna!

Brush Thrice A Day

Welcome back, everyone! I had an awesome Christmas vacation, and you can check out my recap here, but it's time to get back to the gonnaing.

I'm not afraid of the dentist and I never have been because of great childhood experiences. I was surrounded by lovely hygienists and intelligent dentists who actually had bedside manner. I am afraid of unusual side effects from common things like Tylenol and anesthesia, and I'm also afraid of the unusual in general.

It's because of these latter fears that I have put off going to the dentist for quite some time. I don't fear getting my teeth cleaned, but I'm scared that the bacteria dislodged will land in my blood stream, flow to my heart, and create a deadly infection. I don't fear getting a cavity filled, but I fear having to be "put under" (THAT TERM ISN'T CLOSE TO COMFORTING) to get my wisdom teeth ripped out.

Everyone around me has heard my crazy reasons for aversion, even if they laugh awkwardly at them. I live in a hypochondria spiral, and I've kind of learned to deal with that. It's cool when it expands my knowledge of the medical world, but quite hindering when my jaw throbs with pain because my wisdom teeth have finally decided to emerge. Quite frankly, the time has come to jump out of the spiral and get my damn teeth fixed.

I have a list of dentists I'm going to spend the day researching and calling tomorrow so I can get an appointment. I'm going to lay down the law for whoever the unlucky son of a bitch is and refuse to settle for less than what I'm comfortable with. I will then find the best of the best oral surgeon based on said dentist's references and give that asshole some hell as well. I will grit my teeth (zing) and bear it, even when my hands are shaking because come on, guys. This is just silly. I'm in pain and getting sick because of some irrational (OKAY, ACTUALLY RATIONAL) fears.

We shall overcome, bros. Stick with me to see how it goes!

Double Dose

I decided to knock out one fear while preparing to overcome another. I have digital piles of pieces I write but am too scared to let anyone see, and how can I ever become a writer for a successful primetime comedy if I don't spread my wings and fly?!?!

I wrote this excerpt after a painful and stressful day health-wise, and even if you want to give your eyes a bath in Listerine after reading it, I'll still be proud for having the lady balls to put it on the Internet for all to see.

...

It was one of the warmest days of the year so far, a day I could have worn sandals walking if I’d wanted to scrape the shit out of my toes. It was also the day I had my first arrhythmia in two years.

Two years can seem like a short period of time when it’s time spent with a lover or in Europe. Two years can seem too short, but two years can also seem John C. Holmes long. Two years can seem like a safe distance between you and something in your past you never want to see again, like a psycho ex or in my case, abnormal heart rhythms.

On the day in question, I wasn’t doing anything particularly taxing because that doesn’t jive with my consistent role as a woman too paranoid of her own body. I was only walking a .4 mile trail, not even half the distance of what most people exceed in a day. I was actually in the homestretch, going downhill, patting myself on the back, congratulating myself for not sitting inside again, for abandoning my Netflix! For not stuffing my face uncontrollably with cheese, when suddenly, I was struck by what must have been invisible lightening.

In an instant, I was bathed in fear before making the gloomy realization of what was actually causing the dread: an unrelenting irregularly fast pulse. I’m always late to the party, even the ones in my own body.

But once I got there, oh, how I tried to crash it. I stopped moving. I bent over. I coughed my deepest cough. I massaged my neck, my chest. I kept moving. I continued the strange Macarena, but none of it worked to quell the beast. My heart beat on as if it were running a marathon I never gave it permission to enter. There seemed a valve broken in my neck, something that was supposed to close and halt the speeding pattering in my chest but never did.

It was only 30 seconds, but when the most vital organ in your body is uncontrollably spasming and doing so at a speed that is unnatural even during exercise, 30 seconds is a goddamn lifetime. 30 seconds is not normal. 30 seconds of heart malfunction could mean death if it’s bad enough, and constant fear of the next one if you live.

I was alone and didn’t want to end up a case of dead-for-days-before-found. You know, located only by my god-awful smell and found rotting and half eaten by bloodthirsty squirrels?

I wasn’t on a magical island in the middle of nowhere, but it would be a while before someone found me if I collapsed. I didn’t have time to waste if I wanted anyone, be it a meth dealer or the pope, to know where I was.
...

There ya have it. A portion of a portion of something I'm writing. Drink it in, smell its musk, rub its soft fur against your face.

P.S. Can you guess what fear I'm preparing to overcome? It's not as obvious as you think, especially since I didn't include all of the story. You get chocolate* if you guess right!

*This is not a joke.

One Step at a Time

It's funny how much you can change your own life. Since promising myself I was going to get over my fears, I've felt much more confident and free. I pride myself on being those things 365 days a year, but I had unknowingly lost a little of each in the face of my strange phobias. Simply saying I wasn't going to let them control me anymore loosened their grip on me. I'm not cured, but I am now bold enough to be cured.

I wasn't sure where to start facing my fears. Do I bungee jump off a bridge? Do I hop a flight to Paris? Do I ask for a loan to start the small business I've built in my head? I didn't really know, especially when I had daily to-do lists longer than Adrien Brody's nose. I had no choice but to start small, so that's just what I did.

I don't have a phobia of the phone per say, but I do have quite the aversion to it. I always have. I will leave my phone in a room far across the house so I don't have to handle it. Most people feel this incessant need to talk, even if they're talking about nothing - a gene I missed out on somewhere. Rather than give endless and blatant social cues to someone who will inevitably disregard my schedule, I just don't make it an issue by deleting it from my itinerary. It's probably a point of contention for some of my pals, but I hate holding that beautiful iPhone up to my face for longer than five minutes.

Last week I spent a day calling all of my friends to catch up. It was honestly mostly out of forgetfulness (and a few shameless TV marathons) that we hadn't chatted in so long, but because of this extreme distaste I have for the phone, it dawned on me that it was entirely possible I had subconsciously put it off. I realized I might have let this whole me versus the phone thing edge closer and closer to a becoming a full-blown fear than was healthy.

While I am not physically afraid of the phone, I do fear getting phone calls from unwanted chit-chatters. I fear I will receive bad news that will destroy my day or I'll have to listen to a barrage of shit I do not care about. I fear my conversation won't be conveyed correctly because my face isn't there to accompany my words. But most of all, I have always been afraid that my friends won't understand my missing telephone gene. I fear when I go a few days without returning a friend's phone call that they will take it the wrong way, that they will think it's them, but it's me. It's always been me.

I realized very quickly that I had to stop avoiding the phone to avoid a harder turnaround later in life. While I will never be satisfied chatting away on my deck for hours – looking at you, Mom – I have to insert this annoying communication device back in my life. Because I want to? No. Because I have to? Of course. I don't want to become Howard Hughes, J.D. Salinger, or Monk's brother. (That was a super meta reference. If you don't get it, you're probably the worst..... or you have a life.)

Since that day, I have been carrying my phone around with me a lot more. I have been making an effort to answer calls, and those I haven't, I've tried to return more promptly. My borderline fear was stunting me from fully living, and that's the whole purpose of overturning these gonnas.

I will never, ever have proper phone etiquette, but at least I've steered clear of a ridiculous, inconvenient phobia.

Fear is a Dangerous Thing

Coming from someone who has a lot of experience with the F word, fear is truly the most dangerous entity in the world. I don't really know if it can be classified as an emotion, maybe a feeling, but whatever it is, is perilous to life.

Most of my fears are physical: heights, flying, serial killers hiding in my house, bad health, elevators falling, house fires... you know, the lot of neuroses most people would claim as being one of their irrational phobias because we're all scared of the same shit, deep down inside. These stem from places inside us, but we can touch the airplanes, the buildings, and the matches that could burn our house and memories to ash.

But the most detrimental fears are those that live solely in our heads, the things that fuel our physical fears but aren't necessarily tangible to our fingertips: fear of failure, of loss, of being alone, of success, of love, of dying. The list goes on. I have most of these fears and they're extremely deep-seated. (Being alone and love aren't in my mental list. I've racked up a lot of solo time lately and I've been surviving. Oh, and love ain't scary, 'cause I got it and it's so, so delicious.)

The difference between my dreading these things and everyone else dreading them is that I let the fear take over. I let it impede the things I do. I let it dictate my life. I can't travel to the dazzling places I dream of because I can't hop on a plane. I can't throw myself into my many ideas for the future because I'm terrified I'll fail. I can't not get winded climbing up the stairs of a 20-foot building because I just didn't trust the shady, smelly elevator.

Fear is my Ike Turner, but enough is enough. I'm prepared to run penniless from our hotel and get the hell outta this shitty, abusive relationship I have with fear.

As you long-time readers have noticed, this blog has evolved to more of a personal one over the months. It is peppered with gonnas here and there, the kind of stuff that was the life-blood of this blog in its beginning days, but it is so much more now. It became what it should have - the continuation of The Gonna Girl's life after she no longer had to get y'all, or herself, to publicly force her to do the things she said she would.

So here it is, evolving again. While I no longer need to note and then complete gonnas for groceries, cleaning, and job-hunting, I do need to complete gonnas pertaining to all of these fears blocking me from living a full life. I no longer need to record my every move every month because I am doing those things off camera, off blog. I do need to document me jumping over massive hurdles and conquering the things that scare me the most.

I'll continue posting random stuff about my life, ranting in HB entries, and attempting to make everyone laugh with my writing, but the gonnas as you've known them will be gone. They will be more meaningful, more difficult to overcome. The gonnas might show up less often because they are so massive to overcome in my brain, but perhaps they will be easier to tackle than I could have ever possibly imagined.

Wish me luck!

P.S. If you haven't read my past entry, it's important to do so! It will benefit the needy in this holiday season. Feel free to pass it along :) Love you all.