The following\u00a0is a true story. It\u2019s my first memory:<\/p>\n
I was five\u00a0years old and I dreamt I was in the kitchen of my childhood home when I heard a\u00a0roar that was so loud and terrifying, I put my hands over my ears. A massive\u00a0lion was pacing at the other end of the room. The\u00a0thick yellow and dark brown mane encircling his powerful neck was wet with\u00a0drool that was spilling down his huge fangs. His eyes were inky and a tuft of\u00a0thick black hair stood upright at the end of his long bushy tail.<\/p>\n
I was terrified. I turned to the door behind me and reached\u00a0for the doorknob but it was just out of my reach. I faced the lion again. He
was baring his teeth but I suddenly knew that I was dreaming. If I could figure\u00a0out how to wake up, the fear would be gone. I\u2019d had falling dreams and I always\u00a0woke up before I hit the ground. I\u2019d had drowning dreams and I always woke up\u00a0before I got pulled under. It seemed that my dreams always ended before I\u00a0perished. Why would this be any different?<\/p>\n
I gathered all my courage and I crouched down on the\u00a0kitchen tiles, rolled up into a tight ball, covered my head with my hands and\u00a0waited for the beast to attack. I heard the raspy inhale, I felt a blast of hot\u00a0wind and I smelled the musky scent as he flew into the air. A moment later, I\u00a0woke up in the kitchen. I had faced my fear, I had survived, and I never forgot\u00a0about it.<\/p>\n
Fear was always around in my childhood. My mother lived a fear-based life, afraid of so many things like running out of money or getting hit by a car every time she crossed the street. When she stepped off the curb, she yelled, \u201cWatch it!\u201d and scared everyone around her \u201cThe whole world is dangerous,\u201d she once said. That was my programming and I didn\u2019t want to be like her but maybe I am. I have a long list of my own fears.<\/p>\n
When I\u2019m\u00a0driving to an unfamiliar place, I\u2019m afraid I won\u2019t find it.<\/p>\n
When I write,\u00a0I\u2019m afraid I\u2019ll hit a wall and get stuck.<\/p>\n
When I have to\u00a0speak in public about a book I\u2019ve written, I\u2019m afraid I won\u2019t find the words.<\/p>\n
When I need tospeak up about something that\u2019s bothering me, I\u2019m afraid the other \u00a0person will\u00a0get offended.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Does that make me a fear based vperson? It really doesn\u2019t matter. There\u2019s no use in naming it or blaming myself\u00a0for it. Judging how I feel is an act of aggression against myself. Facing fear requires nurturing in the present moment. It requires a commitment not to shame\u00a0yourself but rather to treat yourself with kindness and compassion during a\u00a0difficult time. If you broke your leg, would you bang it against the wall\u00a0repeatedly and expect it to heal?<\/p>\n
In 2016, I was craving community so\u00a0I decided to gather my friends together and teach a writing class. I put the\u00a0word out and the class filled up quickly. I was glad about that, but the more\u00a0work I did to plan it and the closer it got, the more I was afraid. When I was
in the ballet, great performers weren\u2019t always great teachers. I\u2019d written more\u00a0than a dozen books but that didn\u2019t mean I\u2019d be a good teacher. I had worked\u00a0with writers one on one, but I had never taught a group. What if I ran out of\u00a0things to say? What if I didn\u2019t know as much as I needed to know? What if I rattled\u00a0on about nothing and humiliated myself?<\/p>\n
When my students were sitting on\u00a0couches and chairs around my living room, I faced them for the first time and told\u00a0them how scared I was. They told me they were scared, too. They were afraid\u00a0that they would write badly or get nothing on the page. When I realized we were\u00a0all fellow travelers who were facing our fears, I felt so much better. I\u00a0explained what writing meant to me. How it helped me process my life and find\u00a0comfort. I told them that for me, writing was a meditation and I was amazed that\u00a0I could answer all their questions. If I had allowed my fear to stop me and\u00a0cancel the class, I would have missed out on one of the most nurturing parts of\u00a0my life. The class has continued up to today and we have created a community\u00a0where we can speak about absolutely anything and no one judges anyone or tells anyone\u00a0else what to do. We all just listen.<\/p>\n
Georgia O\u2019Keeffe who is known as\u00a0the mother of American modernism, said: \u201cI\u2019ve been absolutely terrified every\u00a0moment of my life and I\u2019ve never let it stop me from doing a single thing I wanted
to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
When the world feels out of control\u00a0like it so often does these days, and you find yourself slipping into fear,\u00a0closing your heart and shaming yourself is not the answer. Making a commitment
to stop judging and start soothing will help more than you can imagine. If you\u00a0can take your own hand, walk yourself through the darkness and stop shaming and\u00a0shoving yourself around, you\u2019ll come out the other side as a kinder and more\u00a0loving person.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The following\u00a0is a true story. It\u2019s my first memory: I was five\u00a0years old and I dreamt I was in the kitchen of my childhood home when I heard a\u00a0roar that was so loud and terrifying, I put my hands over my ears. A massive\u00a0lion was pacing at the other end of the room. The\u00a0thick yellow […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":2673,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2674","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2674","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2674"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2674\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2675,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2674\/revisions\/2675"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2673"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2674"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2674"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2674"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}