It Used to Scare Me

"It used to scare me."

I think that about rain. I would hear that it was coming, and any rain - any - brought the potential of storms and heartbreak. I was terrified well longer than needed, but I simply didn't understand.

As a kid, I didn't understand what was real danger versus what felt dangerous. Afraid I wouldn't know the difference, it was easier to fear it all.

It's gotten better since having kids (who knew - faking courage made me more courageous), the fear didn't fully dissipate.

But it's getting better.

That's really the case for everything. New schedules or new jobs. New friendships and new conversations. New skills. It's all the unknown of what fear is real and which is perceived. Ted asks regularly "What's the worst that could happen?" I always sternly respond "I could die!" He laughs. I spin a web of happenstance situations that justify the fear. I know it's ridiculous. I giggle, hug him, and then go (make the call / write the response / set the meeting / ask for help).

These things get better, though. Not always right away, but I learn what to fear (not much, really) and what fear is perceived.

But it's getting better.

As I write now, I sit on my porch with the windows open, and listen to the rain. It's not my favorite, but I don't fear it - and that's close enough to loving it at this point in my life.