The words circle around me for a while before sinking in. They seem so ridiculous that I do not know if it would be rude to laugh right now. This idea that I do not possess fear when it comes to doing what I love is insane. I am so familiar with my resistance that I wear it like a permanent coat. It is a second skin of discomfort and unease at the idea of attempting anything of meaning and value. It is insecurity personified. It suffocates me when it's too hot, but is never warm enough when it's cold.
My kryptonite for resistance is routine. The banality of regularity. The triumph of showing up everyday regardless of the demons that hide beneath my skin.
I find my strength and courage in answering these questions:
- Is this worth doing even if I fail?
- How brave can I be, just for today?