Yesterday I had to do some stuff I really didn’t want to. It was scary. But I had promised that I would do it. When I got to where I was going I actually walked past the door, heart pounding, mind racing through scenarios: could I lie? say I’d been when I hadn’t? The answer was no.
I turned on my heel and in the rapid, no time to think way of a jump into cold water, I pushed the door open and flung myself into the reception. With the receptionist’s eyes upon me, I had no choice but to open my mouth and start talking. It’s the getting going that’s always the hardest.
When I got to my next meeting the surroundings were even more intimidating than in the first but buoyed by my earlier success (I’m judging being brave enough to attempt something scary as success in itself here) I found myself confident enough to just push on through.
By the time I got home yesterday evening I was on a high and feeling super-motivated and inspired. I could do anything. I could take on the world.
It reminded me of why I like climbing. The digging deep we do when we really need to pull it out of the bag, when we’re facing down our fears. The fight we have to put up when flight is not an option. The hanging on because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. Pushing yourself and how good that makes you feel. Retrospectively, at least 😉
Scary stuff. It keeps us on our toes.