The Fear of Writing

Writing is breathing for me, essential to living. And like breathing, I can control and form my impulses until the words float as easily as the breath does. Like yoga, I know practicing the writing craft will take years of practicing good form. The truth is that I’m impatient. I dream of waking up tomorrow and being an elite yogalite and a best-selling author.

I have thought over and over about what I want to write about. A million ideas run through my mind on any given day. 

More often, I hold myself back. Always afraid of taking that frightful step forward that solidifies my words. As if releasing my words to the public will mean that they are permanent. Instead of as ever-changing as they are in my mind. How could I dream of committing to such a thing?

Permanence has not been a big part of my life. Nor is it something I’ve found particular value in (until I met my partner that is). 

The bottom line is that I’m afraid.

And today, I watched a video on fear.

The video’s primary goal is to get you to face your fears. Because they are never as scary as they seem and running from them makes them grow ever larger.

I’d rather get my fears the eff away from me. So here goes everything.

I’ve faced fear before.

And here’s something to make you giggle: I’m afraid of fish.

In high school, I wrote a whole poem about my fear where I compared humans to fish. My ending statement was, “Humans remind me of fish; I’m afraid of fish.” 

My fear of fish hit all-time highs when I was in college. 

I went on a couple of river trips over the years and the first one was especially unforgiving. The river trip was in Missouri (on a little gem called Current River). and I went with a guy I was seeing at the time. There was a large group of us that went.

Being far from the source of my fear leads me to always say yes to doing things like, I don’t know, spending the entire day on a river full of fish. Yet when I get there and it comes time to get in the water, unless I am intoxicated, the idea is horrifying. 

Imagine a girl standing on the embankment with a look of utter terror on her face. She has realized there is no turning back, and that her only choice is to float down the river for the next 8 hours.

Luckily, this trip had copious amounts of alcohol so there would be no shortage in aiding my anxiety. I also was lucky enough to be in a large raft as opposed to a tiny, ass-exposing innertube.

So I captained my raft and brought along any stragglers that attached to it. I knew one thing was for certain, there was no way I’d let anything happen to this raft. 

Good thing, too. A good couple hours later down river two of our other rafts capsized because of a log. All the coolers emptied and throughout the rest of the day, I’d fish out floating beer cans. But to hell, if I was going to let that happen to my raft. Ain’t no way I was getting in that water, nuh-uh. My keen eyes and crippling anxiety watched the raft ahead of me capsize and I rowed my little heart out. Telling my crew that this ship wasn’t sinking if I had anything to say about it. 

We made it. 

No one got hurt in the process, but there were plenty of casualties of the beer variety.

So we kept chugging along, and I mean that quite literally, every island stop was “Shotgun Island”. We would land ashore to shotgun beers in a group. 

There were so many islands that we had passed out and dead shipmates that floated along next to us. Yet the day was long enough that these same shipmates resurrected.

I’m not sure what overcame me.

Maybe the alcohol blanket made me feel invincible. Or maybe the serenity and excitement of the day gave me courage. Because here’s a little thing about Current River, it is gorgeous. The day was beautiful and I was in awe at the crystal quality of the water. Most of my day, I spent gazing down into its depths where I noticed with delight that I could see the bottom. Which was some 9ft beneath me with not a fish in sight.

So, when we got to the cliff jump later that day, I decided to give it a try. 

Now, here are some things you should know about me:

1. I have never had any desire to do this.
2. I’m only a good swimmer underwater with goggles on. Otherwise, I’m miserable.
3. I have never swum in any body of water with a current. (LOL)

Determination washed over me that I even committed to swimming across the river to get to the jump. I waited in line, and then realized the error of my decision as I looked at the bustling river below me. 

I stood there for long enough that people on the other side of the river yelled, “Jump!”, “Just DO IT!”. People in line began to get irritated, some trying to push their way forward. Some said, “Push her in” and I frantically looked behind me at my friend and said, “Don’t you dare. I will do it on my own.”

Another kind soul in line, who I later found out was my friend Googz, told the rest of the line that I was scared. I believe he told them to shut up but the event is hazy with fear, anxiety, and intoxication.

So, I jumped.

Here is what I learned from my jump:

1. Currents are no joke.
2. I hate jumping, especially when it means you’ll be deep enough in the water that it will be hard to find the surface.
3. Panicking while swimming can kill you. But I have will power deep within me to not die amongst my very fear.
4. Wear the straps on your swimsuit when you go on a river trip. None of this strapless B.S.
5. Oh, and buy water shoes.

Water tumbled over my head as I sank into the river. As I struggled to swim upwards, the current tried to pull me down. During this, I began to realize how deep the water was. And how susceptible I was to anything that might be coming downstream. I was completely exposed.

No really, the current kept bearing its weight on my swimsuit top and exposing me. Even my bottoms began slipping. 

The only thing more embarrassing than being afraid of fish was being naked AND being afraid of fish. I resurfaced eventually to find I was soon to be drifting long past the island that I needed to reach. I struggled and struggled, the current continuing to show me the force that seems calm from the top. Something hours before that I loved due to the effortlessness of the river pulling the raft with it.

Now, it was pulling me with it and I had no other choice but to swim and to swim hard. 

A fishing boat started to come towards me increasing my panic. I envisioned them rolling over my body and dispersing pieces of me into the water below. Blood trailing behind them as they put me out of my misery without realizing it.

When they got closer, they noticed my struggling and asked, “Are you okay?”

Crying I nodded yes I was fine.

“Do you need help?” they asked.

I said, “No, I’ll be alright. I’m just trying to get to shore and I’m scared.” 

In addition to my bathing suit slipping away, the current was trying to pull my shoes from my feet. There was no way I was going to lose my shoes on top of all this. 

I was never so ill-prepared after this trip.

Finally after hours, maybe centuries, maybe minutes, who’s to say, I touched bottom. I struggled out and fell to the sand. Thinking that I’ll kiss it and never leave. Saying, “Oh land, I missed you so much and I’m never leaving you again.”

My companion didn’t think me so funny (I still think it’s funny) and asked irritated what I was doing.

I remember nothing but utter relief that I didn’t drown in the river. 

For the first time I conquered my fear completely alone.

About 10-15 minutes after this, my companion was already joking that he would push me off the raft. I scrambled to the other side of the raft and told him that’s not funny. He promised that he wouldn’t. For some reason, I had trusted him.

In the next moment, I never would again. 

Backward I propelled into the river again. Panic again ensued magnified by my unpreparedness. I couldn’t tell which was up and down, but I grasped the hands reaching for me.

Hyperventilating, I struggled to help lift my body out of the water. My top came off from hiding my breasts, but this no longer concerned me. I’d rather the whole world see me naked than spend another moment in that water.

Betrayal and anger flooded through me. Others asked what the hell was wrong with my “friend”. And others showed real kindness and understanding. I jumped rafts, opting not to trust my companion after all, and joined others who had helped me from the river. Calming, I allowed myself to feel the exhaustion from the marathon I had just experienced.

Then I chugged enough beer to forget everything.

Fast-forward to two good years later, and you’ll see a girl on Current River with a different raft.

She’ll be smiling as she looks down at the beautiful, crystal clear waters below. When she reaches an island, she won’t be amongst those shot-gunning beers. Instead, she’ll be inching her way into the river. Each step forward she’ll realize there was never anything to fear. The same girl who was once afraid to be in past her knees will be in past her waist.

At the end of that same day, she submerges her body. 

The only one on her raft she jumps into the 20ft+ deep water to bring it to shore. 

For a moment, she dares to look down. 

She was afraid of what she might find down in the depths. But all she saw was her body treading water. Nothing else was there. Nothing else had ever been there but beautiful water.

And I felt complete and total peace fall over me.

I had done it. I was okay. 

That is the same fear that I have with writing. 

That I won’t be okay after I do it. 

What I have realized is that writing is like that body of water below me. It might be scary because I can’t see what’s in there, but once I get the courage to join it, I will be okay.

Now I ask you, what are you afraid of? Comment below or reach out to me.