Freaked Emotions AMUCK Ruling Sense
Staring a new project or hiking an unfamiliar path doesn’t always imply fun and without concern. Little things like deciding red or white, chicken or fish, we do without consideration. Larger things like saying I do or hitting SUBMIT can’t be measured on the same scale. It doesn’t matter where or what is waiting at the end of the trail, it’s the first step that can render the strongest person immobile. We hesitate. Dally. Linger with absolute intent. Whine and whimper. Buy one-size-fits-all dreams (and are puzzled when it doesn’t fit). Howl to the moon. Cry on the shoulder of the first person to make eye contact. Fizzle brilliantly.
Finally, when we’ve accomplished all that doesn’t need to be done and there is only you in the recesses of your mind, alone in the dark, do you swallow your pride and confront what you know you must do. You hope for the worst, pray for the best and in the last possible second beg the celestial heavens for a strong tail wind, and finally take a tentative step into the unknown.
As you’re in freefall your evil alter ego cackles:
You don’t know what you’re doing.
You’re going to fall face first into failure
You’re going to hover three feet above ground and then fail.
You’re not going to soar and sail into bliss.
As I sit here on my own precipice with my feet dangling over the edge, I consider my plan.
I hate it when my alter ego wakes from my subconscious and speaks to me during the light of day.
One of us has to be awake since you’re wearing rose-colored glasses and spouting Ray Kinsella. Build it and they will come. What the hell are you yammering about, woman?
And on it goes within. I’ve declared previously of my propensity to rush into life without so much as second glance. I cross against the lights, throw out the fine print and spit into the wind without ducking. Either I am crazy or I have innate survival skills hardwired into my genetic code. I choose to believe it’s a 30/70 allocation. I also believe good begets good and if I damn well build it, something will come. My it is the writing of a novel.
Never, not one single instance during all those rewrites and nights I was up at 3AM sipping cold tea did I ever consider a rejection slip. I shudder even typing the word. I suggest it be banished from all dictionaries far and wide. Now as my Herman Munster’s swing freely over the edge, I confront the possibility. OUCH!
What if <insert word>, occurs?
Are you going to fall face first into failure? Possibly.
Are you going to hover three feet above ground before failure? Possibly.
Are you going to soar and then crash dive into failure? Again, possibly.
Or are you going to give it everything you have just because you can and believe in yourself and not worry about the result? Damn straight, I am going to rush over to the edge, close my eyes and jump.
OK, wicked alter ego, I’ve considered the possibility of non success. I control my fate as I control what is coming. My life, my canvas, my destiny, my outcome is mine to determine.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t come crying to me later.
There is no reason to dally or put off what awaits me. I haven’t a clue where I am going, what I am going to do when I arrive or if I will be invited. Yes, the unknown is scary and terrifying, but it’s also exhilarating. It’s such a rush to have come this far. I never thought I’d survive the last rewrite, but I did. And yes, my freaked emotions are amuck and ruling my sense. I’ll overcome myself, as I always have (as well do, eventually).
After all, F.E.A.R.S turned upside down truly are:
Does your alter ego sometimes bully you?
writing prompt: Here’s how you do it