I was uncomfortable.
Trailer move? Done.
Classes started? Done.
Weekend writing retreat? Commenced.
And yet my soul was ill-at-ease.
I stood in a hot shower for awhile.
What is wrong? I asked myself. What is it?
I lay in bed stock-still, eyes open.
I had a headache.
I was nauseous.
Are you going to have a panic attack?
Well, you might.
You are outside your comfort zone.
Indeed. I am. That must be it.
Are you in over your head? Have you bitten off more than you can chew?
Maybe you’ve taken on too much.
I think this is the thing that no one really talks about when you’ve taken a leap.
But I want to.
So you’ve leapt. You’re freefalling. You are not in control.
And now you start doubting.
And now you feel like you’re on the verge of a panic attack on the first night of what is supposed to be a relaxing writer’s retreat with a friend from your college days.
And you start asking questions like: “What the hell have you gotten yourself and your dogs into? Are you in over your head? Have you bitten off more than you can chew? You’ve definitely taken on too much.”
And you call your partner and you say those words out loud: “I’m overwhelmed. I think I’ve taken on too much.”
And he says: “But everything is fine. The trailer move is over. Your classes have begun. Everything is OK.”
And while you understand cognitively that, yes, everything is fine, your mind is screaming, “But this is scary shit and I don’t remember this being scary!”
But actually it’s the most terrifying thing of all.
Like, you-might-have-a-panic-attack-on-the-first-night–of-what’s-supposed-to-be-a creative-relaxing-writer’s-retreat terrifying.
And that’s exactly why you do it.
Because outside of those terrifying moments where you’re staring paralyzed at a wall, this is what you need. You need to feel like you’re on the edge. Your creativity needs it, your writing needs it.
You do it to be scared shitless.
Mission accomplished.
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