Snapshot of Australia overlooking Queensland. Photo by Anna.
"What if I fall?
"Oh but darling, what if you fly."
Typically, I write a prelude to the preceding blog post or letter or poem.
But I don't think I need to say much about this particular one.
It speaks for itself.
One night this year, I wrote this letter to my fears. What shocked me is that more than anything, my biggest fear was ...
I was baffled because see, it was something I craved (you may have read the blog I wrote "A Love Letter to My Inner Child" where I write about this), and it was also something I feared.
But why ... I hear you asking.
Why did I fear something so pure and beautiful?
Actually, it's not as easy as A, B, C to answer.
It goes quite deep.
So here goes.
A letter to my fears...
I am so scared of love.
I am so scared of being hurt and abandoned.
I am scared of admit my truth.
I am scared of someone betraying me.
More than anything, I am scared of betraying myself.
I am scared of making a mistake.
Of surrendering to someone or something that doesn’t deserve me.
Yet I am not the type who will put up with shit.
I am not the type to allow that to consume me.
So why then, am I so scared?
I don’t know.
I am scared of making the wrong decisions and the consequences of that.
I’m scared of losing myself and forgetting my voice.
And yet, it's not in me to do that. I’ve been there before. I know I won’t go there again.
I’m scared of the next part of my journey: of sharing so much of myself with someone else. Of being so open and vulnerable.
Will they be safe?
Will they see me?
Will they hold me?
Will they laugh with me, love with me, cry with me, fail with me, rise with me?
I’m really fucking scared.
The tears this week haven’t stopped. That release and surrender into my vulnerability is so intense.
And yet, I’m holding myself in my power and my worth. I’m stepping into my power and light. I’m seeing my shadow.
My beautiful shadow.
The shadow I carry along with the light. The shadow that makes my light so brilliant. And the shadow, so deep. And that is why others choose to share so much with me. Because of my shadow and, because of my light.
I am scared of being open and vulnerable because it has been so abused and battered in the past.
I am scared but I want to be excited.
I want to be excited about surrender.
I want to be excited about love.
I want to be excited about being with whoever is the best person for me.
I am petrified.
Because previously, my excitement turned into betrayal.
Because previously, I was not chosen.
Because previously, my truth had been questioned, neglected and, abused.
Because previously, who even was I?
My intuition didn’t matter.
My actions were seen as “over-reactions” and I was told to change in order to be loved and to fit in.
And that is why I am petrified of surrender.
That is why I have held so many at such a safe distance.
Because I had been so hurt at such a root level. And I vowed, I promised myself, I wouldn’t let that happen again.
And now all those feelings are stirring within and I am scared.
I am scared of being too loud, too much, too honest, too real. And yet I know if he is deserving, he will love me as I am: loud, too much, honest and real.
I know with all my knowing, that whoever “he” is, will have arms big enough to hold me, to catch me, to love me, to see me as I am.
And that should excite me.
This should excite me to surrender into my feminine.
That is my gift and power.
I can feel its strength. I can see how people respond to it. It’s like the post I was sent yesterday about the golden honey energy of the feminine enrapturing the masculine.
And my fear?
My fear is tied to my parents, both of whom projected: one projected a wounded masculine and the other a wounded feminine. Or more specifically, they both had a wounded masculine and feminine within them and this is what I grew up seeing. One was terribly distrustful and controlling. The other completely submissive and subdued. Neither in their radiance. Neither healthy. Neither aligned with a higher purpose. Both living out the self-fulfilled prophecy of their scarcity mindset.
And so I grew up in this fear of threat.
I grew up with the fear of speaking my truth because whenever I did, I was shunned and shamed for it
And yet, I’ve transformed that pain in so many ways.
And I’m so capable of doing that again, and again, and again.
Even in love.
Especially in love.
Or through love as a vehicle.
I’m scared of the pain, because that’s all I’ve seen.
Yet instead, I can embrace the pleasure (about which I’m learning).
I’m scared of betrayal, because that is what I’ve experienced. And yet, I can honour trust because I know it exists.
I’m scared of losing myself because I’ve done that before because I’ve seen my mother do it, and yet, yet I’ve found myself and that woman I found in me, oh she, she is a Goddess. She is sovereign and her voice is so proud and loud and will not be tamed.
I’m scared of not being accepted because others who supposedly “loved” me always wanted to change something about me. And yet, others love me because I will not change for them.
And all those “yet’s” excite me.
I’ve done many things in life, scared.
That’s called courage, right?
“Courage is when you’re scared and do it anyway.” Yes…that’s from “Tomorrow when the war began”.
I’ve changed schools, scared.
I moved out, scared.
I moved houses into my own rental, scared.
I broke up, scared.
I resigned scared.
I was made redundant, scared.
I started a business, scared.
I travelled alone, scared.
I moved states, scared.
I spoke up, scared.
I’ve published books, scared.
And yet, here I am.
30 and still scared.
Seeing my fear.
Acknowledging that darkness.
Surrendering to it all.
Knowing in my heart, that all that lives hope.
And that hope is my light.
That flame is what ignites my courage.
So I go forth.
Scared and knowing that I will be able to get to that point, face fear and tell it to fuck off, with love.
Because love is my essence.
Love is my strength. And even though I’m scared, I surrender to it. Even though I don’t know what it looks like yet, I invite love to me.
Even though being open and honest has shut me down in past, I know the right people, will only love me for it.
So here’s to feeling the fear.
And doing it anyway.
Here's to being petrified of love.
And loving, anyway.