(Don’t) Do It Scared
No fear. Just do it. Do it scared.
These were the thoughts going through my head just before I rollerbladed down a pyramid at the skate park and crashed— spraining my wrist, giving myself a concussion, and breaking three of my teeth.
As a teen, I rollerbladed around my neighborhood, but for many years, I only skated at a few kid birthday parties or an outdoor winter ice rink. When my kids got into roller skating and skateboarding, I got an urge to get a pair of rollerblades and have some fun of my own, and I quickly got back my ability to skate sidewalks and parking lots.
The day of the crash, I was at a skate park with my kids and challenged myself to go down a hill. The first hill I wanted to try seemed too much, so I started about halfway down it. The sidewalk leveled off after the incline, which gave me plenty of time to slow down. I skated it several times and was feeling confident. I decided to try a small pyramid right in the middle of the skate park. The pyramid did not have space in front of it to get control of my speed. There was another short uphill ramp a few feet in front of it and a tall ramp to one side for dropping in. These obstacles scared me, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate them.
I grew up in the years of no fear and just do it. Now the cool kids say do it scared because we’ve finally realized that everybody feels fear sometimes, and we can’t wait around for the fear to go away before we do anything. We cautious people (raises hand) would be waiting around for a very long time.
The cult I was raised in had its own messages about fear: if I was afraid, it meant I wasn’t trusting God. That extra dose of shame went along well with the no fear message everywhere else.
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear… I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me…Be not afraid, only believe…Be anxious for nothing…
As a cautious person, I’ve been beat over the head with these words my entire life. I learned that it’s best to never feel fear, but if I do feel it, I should,
Feel the fear and do it anyway.
That day at the skate park, I pushed off down the pyramid despite my fear. But the speed was too much. I didn’t know how to stop at that speed. I didn’t know what would happen if I tried to go up the ramp in front of me. I panicked and tried to turn. But the taller ramp to the side was too close, and I couldn’t turn that sharply. My feet tangled, and I slammed down face first into the concrete. As I sat up in a daze, I realized my front teeth were broken.
My kids ran to check on me. I thought I was bruised and shaken up but well enough to get us home, so I took off my skates and headed to the car with my kids. Only halfway there, I felt a wave of nausea and had to sit down. It passed, and we made it to my van. But then the nausea returned and I felt like I might pass out. I tried to breathe through it. I wanted to be able to get home with my kids. The nausea ebbed a bit, but I didn’t feel safe to drive. I realized I wasn’t thinking clearly and decided to call my husband. He told me to call 911 and he’d be there as soon as he could. (He works in another city.)
I spent the weekend sleeping off a concussion. I’m getting ready to have crowns and possibly root canals on my front teeth.
To be clear, I don’t think getting injured means I did it wrong. People sprain their ankles going for a walk or down the stairs. The YA graphic novel Smile is about how the author tripped while running, injured her two front teeth, and had years of dental work after to fix it. Injuries happen even when we aren’t dealing with fear.
As I healed from the crash, though, I started to wonder if my injuries were just something that happens sometimes? Or did my fear actually have a useful message for me as I hesitated in the middle of the skate park on top of the pyramid?
Since I left the cult, one thing I’ve been learning is how to listen to my own inner voice, rather than what I was always told to do/think/feel. Part of my recovery has been learning mindfulness. In my mindfulness practice, I’ve learned to be curious about my emotions. Curiosity strikes a balance between following emotions blindly versus denying them, fighting them, or feeling guilty for having them. I’m learning to see anger, overwhelm, even boredom this way. I’d never thought about doing the same with fear, but our brains evolved to keep us safe, so the idea that fear is always something to ignore doesn’t make sense.
My daughter took skateboarding lessons this summer, and I’ve loved watching her teacher coach her through her fear.
He doesn’t tell her there’s nothing to be afraid of. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told that in my life.) This lets her stay in touch with how she actually feels.
When she tackles something new that feels scary, he uses baby steps, like holding her hand as she goes down a hill to slow her down until she’s ready to go faster. This lets her get used to more speed gradually while building the muscle memory of doing the skill, so she doesn’t panic when she tries it on her own.
When he knows she has the skill to do something and still feels afraid, he reminds her to breathe. This tells her brain she’s okay, so she can concentrate on what she’s doing without the fear taking over.
He tells her to always have a plan before she takes off. This helps avoid making last minute decisions while skating, which while necessary sometimes, can increase panic especially if you’re unexperienced.
Despite watching him coach her all summer, I did none of that the day of my accident. Oops.
So here’s how I plan to approach my fear with curiosity next time.
Could this fear be my brain telling me I don’t have the skills to do what I want to do yet? In my case, yeah, that’s exactly what it meant. I hadn’t practiced falling. I wasn’t great at controlling my speed, so that’s why I could make it down a hill with plenty of space to slow down after, but panicked on the pyramid in the middle of the park surrounded by obstacles.
Is there a way to baby-step this? In my case, I could have asked my daughter to hold my hand the first few times to slow me down. I could have practiced going up the ramp in front of me to prepare for doing it with more speed.
What’s the level of risk here? Is there a way to lower the risk? Or is the risk so high that I don’t actually want to do this at all? I mean, I’m scared of the idea of free climbing and don’t ever intend to do that, scared or not.
On a scale from mildly nervous to all-out panic, what level of fear am I facing? If I’m on the possible panic end of the scale, this isn’t the right time. Fear at that level makes it hard for the brain to access the skills we do have. If I’m just feeling nervous, maybe some deep breaths and going for it scared are the right choice.
Because sometimes I have done it scared and been successful. I’ve jumped off the high dive even though just standing on the platform scares me, let alone the stomach lurch as I fall towards the water.
I worked through a fear of public speaking as a teen. I practiced a lot and started with speaking in front of smaller audiences before working up to an audience of hundreds. But some people are so scared in front of an audience they freeze and can’t utter a word. Others have to run to the nearest bathroom and hope they don’t throw up before they get there. Maybe they need some more practice or baby steps or maybe it’s not the right time, but I would never tell someone worried about public speaking just do it scared.
This weekend I went rollerblading for the first time since I crashed. I was definitely scared, and I listened this time. I told myself my fear was reasonable given what I’d been through, and I was only here to get used to skating again. I wasn’t going to try anything extra risky or challenging. I practiced falling. I skated slowly at a speed well within my ability. I baby stepped my way to skating faster, turning more, stopping, all moves I’ve made many times.
I still felt like crying. I imagined my teeth hitting the concrete every time my balance shifted the tiniest bit. Deep breaths didn’t help a lot, so I tried the 5–4–3–2–1 grounding technique. As I refocused on the buzz of cicadas in the trees, the orange and dark blue hues of the sky near sunset, and the whisper of a breeze on my face, a sense of calm settled over me, bringing my brain away from the memory of my teeth hitting the concrete and back to the present moment where I was skating safely.
So…do it scared? Don’t do it scared? Let me know how you decide.
This post was originally published at
https://medium.com/@finding.my.way/dont-do-it-scared-ba624adcf9fb