Fear and a Fat Bottom

It is 8:15 am and I have already been searching the internet for two hours to find another job. Strangely, this feverish onset to locate work was ignited because I was just offered a job.  A great job at a brand new school.  I was offered this job as I was driving out of the parking lot after my interview. I can't deny that my ego enjoyed the boost, but somehow, the offer also sent me spiraling.  I didn’t expect to have to make a decision so quickly, I figured I would have some time to get comfortable being unemployed...maybe get a few Pinterest crafts completed or meet my neighbors.  I can’t decide if this job is fate or some sly spirit trying to steer me off a path that is less certain but so much more rewarding.  

It comes down to this - do what makes sense, or follow a dream?… A dream that could very well be made of fairy dust and end in financial ruin.  Walt Disney and most romantic comedy’s whisper “follow you heart,” but my 36 year old brain with two college degrees, four kids and two dogs screams “Don’t be a fucking idiot!  Take the job and make your mortgage payment!!” 

I am an introvert.  I like home, I like solitude, I like quiet and I am extremely productive when I work in such arenas.  Why I didn’t figure this out about myself back in college, I have no idea.  Instead I choose a job where I am continually surrounded by people.  For eleven years I worked in an industry that left me wane and depleted as my vitality was drained away in a field that did not align to my personality.  Until I landed my dream job. The job I lost.  Bringing me back to square one and giving me the choice - take the newly offered “makes sense” job or continue to search furiously for a way to earn money that will not slowly eat away at my soul.  What to do, what to do....?

It is all about fear.  Fear of not having enough money, fear of losing momentum in the job market, fear of being trapped, fear of failure, fear..fear...fear.  It is a nasty, insidious enemy that creeps in like a fog through every crack in my life. Ghandi said, “The enemy is fear.  We think it is hate, but it is fear.”  And making a decision based on fear seems wrong.  Deciding on a course of action spurred by fear will only make me smaller and keep me trapped in a cage disguised as safety and responsibility.  

My husband  is a man with very few fears.  He tells me to chase my dreams without reservation and is always saying things like "it will work out" and "we will find a way,"  but W. is the kind of extremely resourceful guy that can fix cars, and build backyard structures and use power tools - if he told me we would we could venture to live in the wilderness with duct tape, a tarp and a pocket knife, I would believe him.  I on the other hand have very few useful life skills which contributes a great deal to fear in my life.  I'm not stupid, I just....well, my skill set lies in the realm of academia.   And I am clumsy.  A really dangerous combo. This picture is me.

Mr. W. likes to tell a story about the time we were in Alaska hiking the the Chilkoot trail - a treacherous and steep trail that extends from Dyea, Alaska to Bennet, B.C. and was the main access route to the Yukon before the introduction of the railroad in 1900.  During the course of our hike several members of the group took hard spills down the side of the mountain as we made our way over but, to his great delight and surprise, Mr. W. didn't have to chase my ass down the steep slopes.  I was feeling pretty smug about my accident free adventure as we walked through Skagway, Alaska later that day and my man seemed pretty proud of me too...until...We were crossing the street, the PAVED street, and I somehow ended up face down, spread eagle, in the middle of the road.  I almost broke my nose. The crowds of people surrounding me were aghast but my husband assured them this was not the first time something like this happened ( and it wasn't) and  I would be fine.  I think this story helps illustrate why I have a fear of many things (pavement, microwaves, boiling eggs...boiling eggs IN microwaves) and why my husband is a tad more self-assured.

The morning was getting too serious, what with the job offer sitting on my desk and all the thoughts about fear and adult decisions, so I did what I always do when being a grown up gets a little "too real" - I pretend there is no problem to be solved.  The good 'ole "ostrich in the sand” approach.  I decided to go shopping.

I don't know why I do this to myself.  I don't even really enjoy shopping much and I think that it is largely due to the fact that the styles of today compliment "Twiggy" and I have a body type like "Monroe."  It's not that I am fat, exactly, more fat bottomed.  I have a body meant to be clothed with material cinched tight at the waist and a skirt that flows generously over my substantial thighs.  That is a look I can rock.  But house dresses from the '50's aren't really in style anymore.  Nope, my generation has skinny jeans and graphic  print leggings. The struggle of sliding denim and stretch over my legs only to have the article come to a sharp halt every time I get mid-thigh is demoralizing. Especially because once I manage to get the pants all the way up my legs, fabric screaming, I end up with four inches of loose, extra material around my waste.  Thank heaven for yoga pants.  I really can't stress enough how yoga pants have changed my life.  But, a girl can't ALWAYS wear yoga pants, especially to job interviews, thus the shopping trip.

As I sat in the dressing room annoyed, yet again, that I have size 12 legs but a size 8 waist and sweating a bit from my latest battle with clothing that was supposed to be "stretchy," I realized that it was ok to be a little bit nervous about my life right now, to be a little bit AFRAID, because my fear wasn't keeping me from taking chances. My fear comes from having an adventurous soul. I have taken chances, and I have succeeded some, but failed plenty. But I still keep putting myself out there, timid though I may be at times because, let's face it, nobody likes to fail. I am going to forgive myself today for feeling afraid of the unknown.  I am going to forgive myself for being an ostrich that hides her head in a dressing room full of stretchy clothing.  I am going to forgive myself for purchasing the 'oh so trendy but 'oh so age inappropriate tribal print leggings.  Because as Nelson Mandela said so beautifully,  "I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."

So I'm going to take a leap of faith - whether that means starting a new career at 36 or attempting to walk in the "stretchy" skinny jeans of modern day fashion.  Because when you are born with adventure in your heart, potential accidents in every movement and an ass like mine,  putting it all out there is really your only choice. It does take courage, and, in my case the real likelihood of a few bumps and bruises, but I believe that is called "living."