If You're Going Through Hell, Keep on Going

This week I got an email from Globetrotting, the equestrian travel agency I used to book my upcoming wilderness ride at Whistler Mountain. The letter had links to articles and resources on riding fitness, trail etiquette, and, um, managing bathroom-related needs out on the trail. It’s like they read my mind! I instantly felt my shoulders melt and was so grateful, I shot back a thank you right away.

The relief that washed over me when I saw that email made clear just how nervous I’d been feeling about this trip. I don’t think of myself as a generally anxious person. I’m pretty logical and focus on gathering information, preparing myself as best I can. But when I found myself coming home to packages on my doorstep multiple times a week and obsessively researching the “perfect” trail boots, I knew something was up.

What was happening? I was afraid. Afraid of not knowing what to and not having the right clothing or accessories, then having to endure discomfort and embarrassment in front of the other people on the trip, all strangers to this solo traveler. Researching products and making purchases online helped me avoid feeling that fear by giving me busywork and by holding the promise that all would go well if I bought the right stuff. I don’t like the restless, gnawing energy or the poor sleep, upset stomach, and soreness from clenching my jaw that accompanies worry. But avoidance is only a temporary solution. Which is why I kept shopping, with urgency.

My mentor taught me that I can’t think my way into acting differently, but I could act my way into thinking differently. Experience has shown me this is true. One thing our minds do really well is to steer us away from discomfort and towards pleasure, pulling off some clever gymnastic twists in the process. Like convincing me there even is a way that I could “do the trip” perfectly. The email made it clear that no one else thinks I should be an expert at something I’ve never done before.

So, what can I do? Take positive opposite action. This means I have to let myself feel the fear. I can’t bypass it, numb it, or hold it at bay indefinitely. Ugh, really? Really. It’s okay. Like everything else, the feeling passes. It’s anxious fear, fear about a possibility (FEAR= Future Events Appearing Real), and not fear about a black bear charging towards me right now. Even though the two feel similar. Then I have to proceed on my chosen path, with its risk I’d assessed as tolerable before the emotion struck, and march past all the scary shadows on the wall.

I’m constantly forgetting and relearning this process. It’s why I’ve committed to publishing on a specific weekly deadline. Otherwise, I’d get stuck in an endless loop of revision in pursuit of perfection, paralyzed by the fear that what I have to say isn’t worthy of consideration.

Nonsense. Life is a wild ride, and sharing it is the best part.

What fears pop up when you are trying something new? How do you respond?