I understand why people settle for comfortable lives. With every ounce of my being, I get it, and I can say that now I as lie face first on the ground.
I told myself last year that I was going to live bravely and courageously, always fighting for my dreams. I quit coaching and made other adjustments so that I could dedicate my time and energy to my goals. Making this resolution felt invigorating for the first few months. I was focused and constantly searched for ways to show up. I refused to let fear stop me for the first time in my life, and because of that, I was overcome with a sense of confidence that I never had before. Most exciting was the fact that my inspiration to write and create was at an all time high. It was like I was being rewarded by the creativity gods for answering the call they had for so long been sending to me.
Week after week, I'd walk into the arena and wind up battered and bruised. Early on, the beat down was welcomed and strangely exciting. I was sending in my articles for publication in major magazines. I was applying for positions at dream companies. I was knocked down with each submission, but I'd quickly jump up, ready for more. I'd stare at my wounds for hours because I was proud of my effort, and each bump was a coveted battle wound and evidence that I was living true to my values. The feeling of being brave was addicting, and I was sure that my path in life was destined to lead me into the arena every day. It never felt like losing in the beginning; trying felt like a beautiful victory.
Flash forward a few more months. The thrill of the battle and the eagerness to spring up after another beating was diminishing. It was harder and harder to stand up, and I found that I had a slight hesitation to even step into the ring to fight. It was becoming too painful to see the "Not Selected" next to my job application or to be told my article wasn't chosen for publication. Failure became a revolving door. Bravery and excitement became destructive feelings of fear and defeat. I had given up parts of my life I loved to be on this stage, and nothing was panning out the way that I had imagined. I was stuck in the ugly part of the journey that no one wants to be in or talk about. I was trapped in the pit of a reoccurring fall.
I secretly knew this moment would come because the pages of Dr. Brené Brown's books have been dog-eared on my nightstand for years. "If we are brave enough often enough, we will fall." It's only in movies and fairy tales that the prize winds up wrapped perfectly on the doorstep. I was living no fairy tale. I knew I was in for the fight of my life, and it was not going to be without failure; however, there are times when running into a brick wall day after day feels less like bravery and more like stupidity.
While examining the extent of my injuries and scrapping out the pebbles once again ingrained in my skin, I began to think of what the alternative life would look like; it certainly isn't supposed to be this hard. Sure, there wouldn't as much excitement and more than likely a lack of true passion, but I would be safe. There would be no major upsets and no indescribable victories. I would always know what to expect, a real life Groundhog's Day. It's easy, and with the curve balls life constantly throws our way, repeatedly signing up for an extra battle did not make much sense.
So there I sat, balancing on the edge of courage and comfort. With shaky legs, I stood again and looked at the door. It led to my safe, comfortable life. The other way shined with the possibility of living my dreams. My head begged me to run for the exit, but my heart ached to stay and give it another go. It was a decision that would impact the rest of my life because once I crossed the line, I couldn't return to the other side; if I retreated, I'd more than likely never again enter the arena or strive to be who and what I yearned to be. I felt like a little kid looking both ways a million times before crossing the road, desperately trying to figure out which was the best path for me.
During my moment of truth, no amount of comfort and safety could pull me out the door. I could not turn my back on a life of passion. I could not settle because courage will always trump comfort in my life. I could not settle because that was easy, and I there was not a part of me that wanted to look back only to realize I played small. With sturdy steps, I moved back into the light of the arena, ready for the next battle.
I now understand why people live a comfortable life. With every ounce of my being, I get it, but the thought of not fighting terrified me more than any fall I will take.