The Girl who was Afraid of Everything

I submitted this as an essay and thought I could fulfill my blogging goals with the same piece--plus the added bonus of the scared-of-everything poem.

To Courage.

I’m one of those people who is afraid of most everything. Among other things, I used to have nightmares about needing to ask someone for help at Walmart with their friendly “Need Help? Ask Me!” buttons taunting my limited knowledge of where to find duct tape (I was certain that only hapless simpletons asked for assistance).

One late, sleepless night, I wrote a poem about all the things I was afraid of, but had to stop after #32 because I didn’t have the energy to invest in a full therapy session with myself. (see below)

Despite being afraid of everything from grievous spelling errors to being forever alone (usually correlated fears), I try to put faith first. That means going forth and acting with courage and being brave despite my fears. I realize taking risks won’t kill me (unless the risks include riding on a sketchy roller coaster or a broken zip line), and thus I can usually pump myself up with enough courage to live a life that may, for all intents and purposes, at least look brave.

But I don’t usually mention the part of me that is always huddled in the fetal position, weeping and crying and telling me to please go back to bed before I break an arm.

Going forth with courage is not about squelching all your fears though. It’s about being more engaged with your passions than the things that make you want to run and hide. It’s clinging to the things that and people who make you feel alive, whether those be hiking, dancing, or trying 100 different ice cream flavors in Provo with your freshman roommate.

Susa Young Gates, one of Brigham Young’s daughters, relayed this point in one of her life mottos: “Keep busy in the face of discouragement.” As someone who busied herself with many good things—including writing, women’s perspectives, education, missionary and temple work, motherhood, and family history—Gates was not one to let fear hold her back. She lived wholeheartedly and passionately, believing she was part of a cause bigger than herself, a purpose bigger than her fears.

Having such intense faith in her personal and even sacred mission in this life brought Gates to a point of courage, a point of engagement. But reaching that destination requires something from the depths of your soul.

I know I’m not the only student at BYU who has lain on the hard ground for hours, staring up at the ceiling amidst an existential crisis and rethinking every decision I’ve ever made. Did I choose the right major? Am I going to have a job that I like? Will I get married? How do I even talk to other humans? What was I thinking eating that piece of cake for breakfast? Was that the right emoji to use? Why did I even come here?

Those are the fear questions, the queries that plague my soul and try to drown the competing voices of courage.

Though a century earlier, Gates must have dealt with similarly overwhelming questions as well. After all, she fell in love with learning at a young age, married at age sixteen, divorced five years later, then went to BYU, founded the music department as a student there, and went on to become one of the most influential women in early 20th century LDS society. We may not have a record of her own battles with inner demons, but we can be sure that she had them: courage only exists in the presence of fear.

For Gates, it took courage to come to BYU as a woman, to travel, to record women’s histories, and to push for genealogy work.

For me, it takes courage to write things without a spell-checker. It takes courage to love people, without the guarantee of receiving love in return. It takes courage to follow my passions and dreams, which sometimes seem downright ridiculous.

I read once that you learn courage by couraging. In the same line of thought, I know I have also learned fear by fearing. By existing though, I’m learning to courage. I’ve couraged by striking up conversations with strangers, by taking and even loving difficult classes like French 101 (laugh all you want, it nearly killed me), by refusing to be intimidated by social stress even when I’m worried my mom is still paying people to be my friends, and by making decisions--some as simple as what I want to wear each day. Sometimes I still have to spend time on the ground reflecting and staring at the ceiling or sky, but more and more, I can courage on my feet.

I may be afraid of many things, both rational and irrational, but in this life, I’m choosing to courage.

And here is the poem written the night before taking the GRE:

"The Girl who was Scared of Everything"

I'm scared of lots of things.

Of the GRE

And of failing the GRE

And of not getting enough sleep

And of people trying to sell me stuff

And of not knowing how to fix cars

And of being alone

And of being unloved

And I'm afraid of being late

And of breaking a foot or my right hand

And of never loving

And of missing out on opportunities

And friendships

And of not fulfilling my dreams

And of not knowing what my dreams are

And of forgetting to wear pants

And I'm frightened of making grievous spelling and grammatical errors 

And of not understanding what people are saying

And of not being good at things

And of not being good

And of being seen as lazy

Or working too hard

And of making wrong decisions

And failing to make right decisions

And of spiders inside

And of feeling too small to make a difference.

I'm scared of lots of things.

But I try to do them anyways.

Because I'm scared of being too scared to do anything.

So I just have to go for it all.