I awoke
that morning with a ginormous headache, shaking hands, and just about
the worst thing one can imagine – the runs. I was prepared – in fact, I
was over-prepared. So, why did I feel frozen, like a deer caught in the
headlights? As I contemplated what to eat that wouldn’t head straight
for the porcelain bus, I waited for the fear to go away, or at least
dissipate. But it never did.  

This
was the morning of my long anticipated Tae Kwon Do black belt test.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would achieve a black belt,
much less have the desire. I had plenty of black belts at home and none
required the kind of pain I had experienced over the past 5 years. I
had signed up for karate lessons while picking my son up from his. I
immediately noticed a bevy of women who were in spectacular physical
shape working out in the Dojang (Korean for training studio). Their
muscular, toned bodies and familiar curves made me melancholy for mine.
I immediately registered. Not for the belt – for the body. My
military-style instructor, Mr. V, quickly reminded me that this was
martial arts, not jazzercise, which required that I leave my leg
warmers at home and master skills more serious than aerobic sequences
set to music. It changed my life.

Fast
forward to the day of my black belt test. As I sat paralyzed at the
foot of my bed, contemplating whether or not I might keep oatmeal down,
I realized that I was deeply afraid to fail. 

Scared beyond description. 

And I had the runs to prove it. 

Now
that I’m a life coach, I know that fear of failure is universal among
my clients. In fact, the more important the task, project, or dream,
the more the fear increases. The resistance my clients encounter is
often in direct proportion to how deep the fear runs. It’s exacerbated
when they are afraid to feel it. In the worst of cases, this can
develop into full-on terror. 

My
mind was absolutely certain that I could pass my black belt test with
flying colors if only I could leave my fear at the edge of my bed.
However, I realized how senseless it was to perceive fear as something
that must be eliminated in order to move forward. So, instead of being
at war with my fear, I surrendered to it.

What
I have come to learn is that fear is GOOD. Fear reminds us of what we
have to do. The more scared we are of whatever we’re called to do, the
more we have to do it. In The War of Art, Stephen Pressfield concludes:

“If
you didn’t love the project that is terrifying you, you wouldn’t feel
anything. The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference.”

So,
would you rather feel the fear, step into the arena, and take a few
blows, or would you prefer to feel indifferent and passively watch from
the sidelines?

In other words: 

Do you want to be a player or a spectator?

Fear
is not something you ever overcome. As long as you are pursuing your
dreams, fear can be as normal to you as the new FDA requirements for
traveling after 9/11 – if you stop resisting it. As tedious as air
travel has become, it is clearly worth removing most of our clothing,
or we wouldn’t still be traveling. It’s the price we pay for getting to
our destination safely. 

Try
treating fear as though you are traveling to the destiny of your
dreams. Stop resisting the idea that the journey should be painless or
easy in order to pursue becoming the person you are meant to be.
Anything that is worth doing is going to be hard. The alternative is
bartering parts of yourself away to the dictates of fear – and that, my
friend, is worse fate than a slow death. What is safe about that?

For
our sake and for yours, please don’t deprive the world of your gifts,
talents or calling because of this insidious thing called fear (and
it’s best friend called Resistance). Don’t cheat us. More importantly,
don’t cheat yourself. 

I’m
happy to say I kept the oatmeal down and passed my black belt test
despite my shaky hands and tenuous stomach. How did I do it? I told
fear she could come along as long as she was clear that I was the
player and she was the spectator. Her job was to sit quietly on the
sidelines until I was done. It’s just like parenting a toddler. I then
proceeded to put my uniform on, pack my bag, tie my shoes and stuck
Fear in my back pocket where she belonged. 

I kicked serious butt that day. 

By the way, I still get scared. But, just most of the time.