I hadn’t expected to be so afraid, and for a while I couldn’t figure out what I feared. Did I fear falling? Truthfully, not one bit. I trusted the equipment and the set-up completely. If anything, I probably have too much faith in man-made apparatuses; I’ve never been one to think the roller coaster might break down. Did I fear getting hurt? Not at all. I knew I could get some cuts and bruises, but, really, I’ve birthed children…this would be nothing to cry over. Did I fear coming down? No, from my first experience climbing I knew that would not only be a relief, but would actually be kind of fun. Did I fear heights? Nope. I adore heights, always have. They make me feel liberated. So why, oh why, was I clinging to a rock with the balls of my feet and the pads of my fingers, trembling, wondering what I had gotten myself into?? The pervading thought as I hung there like a picture frame on a feeble nail, was, “I don’t want to mess up. Please, please, don’t let me mess up.” I wanted to get to the top, simple as that. I dreaded not finishing what I had started, which is why I hesitated to begin in the first place. Was I worried what others would think if I didn’t make it? Maybe a little, but I knew these people were my friends, and I didn’t feel the pressure coming from them. It was coming from me. What would I think of me? What would this say about me if I didn’t make it?

All really rather silly thoughts in retrospect. But this is what we do, isn’t it? We become paralyzed, hanging on a rock by our fingertips…or we never climb in the first place. This is what it looks like to fear failure. It looks like nothing happening. It even looks like laziness. But while laziness wants to take the easy route, fear-of-failure desperately wants to be legitimate, to prove capable. We look at young people, especially those who seem to be wasting a lot of time, and think, “Why won’t they just TRY?” But young adults who are still searching for their talents and interests are particularly vulnerable to the paralysis that fear of failure brings. When there is not another developed talent for the ego to fall back on, trial with failure means risk to a person’s whole identity. Young people, or those without developed skills, begin to define themselves by what they can’t and don’t do, rather than by what they can do. This is a very trying time-excuse the pun-in a person’s life. In order to move past the fear, there must be a shift in thought. Fear of failure looks to the top of the rock and thinks “too far.” Instead we can look to the rock in front of us and think “What next?” This is exactly what helped me. I stopped looking up and started looking around, feeling around, for places to put my foot or hand. The key was to think, then try, think, then try and just continue that way until I reached the top or fell.

We must also acknowledge that failure isn’t falling; it’s giving up. Even falling is progress. We wonder how we will recover. What if we fall more than once? But if the desire is moderate to high and the risk is low, then there may be more risk in NOT trying. Failure to begin, especially repeated failure to begin, comes with all sorts of subsidiary injuries…such as greater fear, lower confidence, anguish, untapped talent, and failure to progress. Inaction can be misleading because we don’t realize when we stand in one place for too long, it becomes sinking sand. It’s harder to step out. We may know this cognitively, but to know it earnestly in the midst of our fear is entirely different. In that moment, the only remedy for an anxious soul is to try just a little bit, and then a bit more. Trying provides the gentle relief that encourages us to keep going.