Recently my family went to the indoor amusement park, where our 8-year-old was in raptures about the Ferris wheel. I would have contented myself with waiting and watching from the safety of the ground below while my husband and our 2-year-old wandered around the park. After standing in line a while, though, our 8 & 11 came back to me; apparently the Ferris wheel appeared more intimidating in person that it did in our 8's imagination.
What's a mom to do? Heave a sigh and get in line to ride the contraption, setting an example for her kids about facing fears. When it was our turn, we boarded the swinging bucket and (much to my chagrin/dismay/horror) were on our way. Just thinking about it gives me the heebie-jeebies. Partially to amuse my kids and partially to prevent myself from exploding from a heart attack, I hammed it up for my kids. They loved the entire ride, teased me mercilessly, and endured me muttering "shutUPshutUPshutUP! IhatethisIhatethisIHATETHIS! If you don't stop laughing, I'm calling off birthday parties!" They laughed till they had tears in their eyes. (note: My 8 in particular delighted in the ride and was a daredevil for the remainder of the day.)
My 8 asked "Why did you come on if you're afraid?"
Why do I balance upside-down from a wobbly pedestal and do crunches while my trainer tosses a medicine ball to me?
During yesterday's especially intense WOW session I voiced my fear of the afore-mentioned exercise and of a couple others. I asked David "Why is lifting weights scary?" His thoughtful reply: "It's not scary to me." Thanks, David.
Doing those upside–down crunches on the pedestal scared me every bit as much as did the Ferris wheel. I think I'm afraid of falling. I know I wanted something to hold on to.
More and more I find that I need boundaries. I need to know how many reps to do. I need to know how many more minutes I'm elliptical-ing.
And faced with the prospect of having to lose a seemingly infinite number of pounds, I have to comfort myself by creating a secure boundary. I've asked a friend to help me mark off the next ten pounds. Ten pounds are more conquerable than are ninety.
We've all heard that we have nothing to fear but fear itself. I think that in order to grow I need to confront my fears, find out what's at the crux of them, and learn how to move past them. It's why I got on that Ferris wheel, why I did upside-down crunches while playing catch with a medicine ball, and why in the not too distant future I'm going to climb that rock wall.