The Jump or the Landing?

NaBloPoMo asks:

Is it the jump you worry about most or the landing?

     I think it is an even tie for me.  I am petrified to jump and terrified of the final splat when I fall flat on my face.  The overlying fear of failure kills any form of ambition I may muster.  Do you suppose that sky divers and bungee jumpers worry about the landing?  Imagine if one little thing goes wrong perhaps the parachute doesn’t open as planned or the bungee cord snaps you can guarantee you will end up road kill in the end.  I avoid either situation by being too chicken $hit to even contemplate trying either.  I don’t care how life gets I don’t care to sign up to scare the living be Je$us out of myself with the jump or the landing in either case.  Knowing myself as I do, I would be too petrified to jump and would need to be pushed.  The decision to jump would have to be taken out of my hands.

     Several years ago I was petrified to leave the home my husband and I had lived in for over 11 years.  I didn’t know how it was going to be. I feared the unknown and unfamiliar.   I agonized over the transition.  What I discovered was that the more of our stuff we moved into the new house, the more it was situated just the way we liked, and the more of our possessions were put away, the more our new house felt like home.  I worried about the jump and the landing.  In the end, I adjusted and realized it isn’t where you lay your head; home is where your family is, and where your stuff is.  The rest is just geography.

       Even when I was a kid contemplating the diving board of my Aunt’s pool, I was terrified to jump and even more petrified of the landing especially if I attempted to dive.  If I had to think about it, I would never do it.  If I could take a running jump where I had little time to think, all was better with the landing.  I knew how to swim well enough that I wouldn’t have drowned but still there was that underlying fear that made me hesitate.

       Maybe the fear I have carried around with me all my life like used baggage has more to do with the lack of confidence I suffer from more than my ability to jump or worrying about how my landing will be.  I have always lacked confidence in my ability.  I would work myself into a real frenzy certain I would fail only to succeed with flying colors in the end.  I wish I didn’t fear the plunge.  I wish I wouldn’t worry about my potential to fail.  I wish I could just have the balls to jump, enjoy the ride, and never worry about the landing.  Unfortunately I have never been able to muster enough confidence from deep within to be overly convincing even to myself.  Money talks, and bull$hit walks my mom always used to say.  Even though bull$hit can get you pretty far if you are a master, in the end it is having the guts to jump and not care about the landing that rules the day.

        I will probably go through my whole life worrying about both equally no matter how hard I try to appear unaffected and maintain my cool. Worrying is in my genetic makeup. My Grandma was a master of worry.  No matter how many times I remind myself that I need to give my worries to the L0rd, I still have those moments of pure panic.  If only I could be fearless!   Instead I worry myself sick and have to be dragged kicking and screaming, paralyzed in my fear to take the plunge until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.