The Other Side of Fear
No one likes to be scared. That feeling of cold sweat on your palms, your heart doing that weird pitter-patter-stutter thing. I remember bungie jumping at an amusement park for the first time when I was in high school and, though I'm not terrified of heights, something about looking over a ledge and having to actually choose to make that jump was horrifying. It felt like every cell in my body went into self-preservation overdrive. So much so, that in the theme park there was a go-cart track next to us and people *literally* got out of their cars and started chanting "JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!", which I tried to see as sweetly encouraging until it changed to "PUSH HER! PUSH HER! PUSH HER!" The thing is, the second I finally jumped off the platform, I was having the time of my life.
There are loads of time fear almost made me miss out on something truly great. Getting denied entry to the University of Georgia and my mom forcing me to appeal their decision felt like giving them the opportunity to reject me a second time. Opening my own photography studio involved a lot of moments sitting on my shower floor crying because I was terrified I'd fail. Going on a date with a chef to a fancy restaurant where I was scared I'd use the wrong fork or embarrass myself. My first time traveling solo to Japan and wondering if I should just stay in the hotel because I was afraid of the unknown.
Fear is the ever-present bridge that I cross to get to the very BEST things in my life. (Read that again.) After appealing, I got into UGA and had an incredible college experience. My photography business took off and I get to genuinely love what I do for a living. I ended up marrying that chef. And traveling solo has allowed me to meet incredible people, engage in rich adventures and add an international side to my business.
What would've happened if I'd stood at that bridge of fear and instead of crossing it, just gone home? Never appealed, opened my studio, gone on the date, left the hotel. I don't think my life would be horrible, but it would certainly be different. Less vivid. More predictable. More like existing, rather than thriving.
I know for my clients, as their boudoir session approaches, they can get scared. I start to get emails about pushing back their shoot date. Or, on some occasions, she just forgoes the $400 sitting fee and ghosts. I get it. I do. Fear is a tangible, real, not-fun feeling. But I KNOW that if she can gather the courage to just walk through my door, what she'll find won't be further proof of every insecurity she's ever thought about herself. It will be that she's beautiful. Brave. Strong. Valued. Worthy to be celebrated just as she is.
The beautiful thing about crossing the fear bridge is that the more you do it, the easier it gets to do it the next time. And eventually feeling that fluttery trepidation will transform from a sign you should turn around and go home into a sign of how great what's other side is.