I suppose I got bit by the inspiration bug yesterday and that was the reason between two blog posts. They could be considered short stories in their own right but it really began with me thinking about what I am actually afraid of in life and how that fear, for most of my life, overtook most of the decisions I have made.
In an earlier blog post I mentioned how I was kind of cut off from society as a child. Sure I went to public school like most of us but from when I was around eight years old to twelve I lived out in what some would consider the “country”. There were no other kids for miles and on top of that I was forced to go to a different school even though, technically, the house I lived in was closer to the school where I made my initial friendships.
It was a fateful mixture of never being taught to stand up for myself, never knowing what the word “confidence” was, and being the new kid in school. That was my first meeting of what fear was. I didn’t have any idea what courage was and the first few years of my new childhood was a mixture of teasing words and the occasional sock to the stomach. Looking back now it wasn’t even the fear of not being accepted, but the fear of being a failure in my mother’s eyes. I did my best to keep the truth from her and my grandparents but every now and then a call would go out to other mother’s and father’s and the next day a new barrage of taunts of being a “tattle” would come upon me.
This continued through most of my adolescent life. I got the thoughts in my head I shouldn’t have but somehow I persevered. I took everything in stride. The fear was still there and pounding in the back of my mind. It caused me to lose a few people that meant the world to me but at the same time with how they did treat me back then I think it actually took courage to cut them out of my life.
Throughout my adult life so far I could be described as a recluse in some aspects. I do not mind going out and interacting with society yet at the same time I take a look at what is in front of me right now and I can only feel apathetic about it all. It isn’t fear that is holding me back. The fear is still there, of course, but I don’t let it dictate my life any longer. I simply grew tired of never taking chances. I won’t be bungee jumping anytime soon but as I said I feel apathetic about where I live.
Courage and fear can actually be very misunderstood things. Some may think that I am fearful of putting myself out there to the world but at the same time I have taken nothing but pride in how . . . eccentric . . I am. I’m not a typical person. I am not shy, I am not proper. I have learned that only a select few people can handle who I really am and it is those people who know that no matter what the situation is or how afraid they will be my own fears will never stand in my way to help them.
So in a lot of ways those last two blog entries were a thank you to those who have been able to see me find my courage again and that I will always be there if they need me.