First Place

It's go time. The school year has ended. The latest trip to Mexico is over. It's time to really get things started. I've been looking forward to this moment. Up to now, I've been squeezing in appointments when I can, talking to people when it's convenient, and now I have the time to put my full energy into creating the life I truly want for myself and my family.

And I feel paralyzed.

In 3rd grade, I remember going to our yearly track meet at the high school and signing up for a 50-meter dash. I liked running. I wasn't half bad. I thought I had a decent chance to do well. As we took our places at the starting line, I became completely overwhelmed. I looked at the girls next to me and something inside of me twisted into knots. I started to have trouble breathing. My eyes got fuzzy. My muscles froze up. The finish line suddenly seemed miles away. I didn't have the vocabulary for it then, but now I know I was in the midst of a panic attack. The starting shot was fired, and I somehow forced my arms and legs to move, but it felt like I was trying to run through thick sludge. I pumped as hard as I could, willing my body to obey my brain, and I finished the race, though I think I came in second to last.

A few years later, I found myself in another race during 6th grade. We were tasked with running around the outside of the field. I don't remember the purpose of the race, but I remember it being a cool thing if a person won. The girls started off around the field and I quickly got to the head of the pack. Soon, it was just me and one other girl. At about the halfway point, there was a narrow section between the fence and a large construction hole in the sidewalk where only one person could fit at a time. I was about half a step in front of the other girl and I knew she'd have to yield to me to get through the narrow pass, but for some reason, I slowed just a touch to let her through first. Try as a I might, she stayed that one step ahead of me the rest of the race. I couldn't catch up. I couldn't pass her. I made a conscious decision to not be the winner of that race and bowed to someone else because subconsciously I didn't know how to let myself be first.

In 9th grade my friend talked me into joining the track team with her a little late in the season. The other team members had a few weeks of practice on me, so I was easily the slowest runner. I improved quickly and attended a couple of track meets without coming in dead last in my heats. Then the travel meets happened where I would be on a bus and at hotels with sophomores and juniors and seniors that I didn't really know and I faked sick twice and then quit the team not because I didn't enjoy running or that I cared very much about winning or losing but because I was intimidated and afraid.

All of those anxiety-ridden moments, self-defeating behaviors, paralyzing fears, they don't just go away because I'm not 8, 12, 16 years old anymore. I'm still her. I'm still looking around at others and seeing how they're better than me or deserve it more. I'm still not sure how to let myself have what I want because I've lived a lifetime believing that sacrificing my own desires is what gives me value. 

More than the rest is the belief that if I don't actually try, it will make more sense if I fail. If I do this, if I actually give it my everything and I still can't make it happen, I will feel so utterly defeated. 

But at the same time, I'm so tired of feeling defeated, of conceding the victory, of bowing to anyone else's expectations. And the idea of not trying, not giving it my all, literally makes me feel sick. The idea of staying where I am now makes my soul cry out in distress. I can't stay here. If I stay here, I will destroy myself more utterly than anxiety or intimidation or fear ever could. Staying in this space and not stepping forward through this next fear would be an excruciating self-betrayal.

I spoke with my boyfriend last night about my worries and fears and anxieties and mental paralysis. He is also my business associate, and he showed me how doable this actually is. He reminded me of my strengths, my abilities, my resources. He showed me, by the numbers, what I need to do and how manageable it can be. He offered his continued help and guidance. He gave me the push I need to step forward and begin moving.

I still feel sluggish, but as I gain momentum and jump those first hurdles, it will get easier and I will move faster. My muscles will warm and strengthen and I'll be released from the stagnation of my current space. I'm already nearly there. And it's not about a finish line or anyone else around me that is ahead of or behind me, but it's about putting one foot in front of the other and pushing through my upper limits to see and feel and exist in an abundance of light and success and love. It's about recognizing how far I've already come and how much I already exist there. It's about helping others get there, too.

Find the momentum, breathe, put one foot in front of the other. You got this. 

On your mark, get set,

go.