I’ve always been afraid of the dark. I slept with a comforting night light until I was a senior in high school. To help myself sleep without a light I told myself, ‘it’s just like camping.’ Even now, as an adult, I occasionally leave a string of twinkly lights on as I fall asleep.
I also use to have terrible stage fright. I never got through a piano recital without freezing, running back to my seat for my sheet music, and fumbling through the rest of the piece I had perfectly memorized minutes before the recital started. Before I went to college for theatre I remember sobbing in the back seat begging my dad not to make me go into an acting summer day camp.
I have never had a brain for math or science and I’ve never desired to. While in college I hadn’t failed a class until my very last one – I’m still not %100 sure the exact name of the physics class it was but there was a lot of calculating the distance from the earth to the sun to the nearest star which made me feel like I was seeing stars. Then I failed it again. Feeling ultimately doomed I took it a third time knowing it was the only thing in between me and my diploma. After a few panic attacks and many prayers motivated by pure annoyance, I managed to barley scrape by with a -C.
Now that I’m almost done applying for grad school I feel little doubts creeping up and camping out. Thoughts of, ”It took you so long to get your bachelors, you’ll never end up finishing a masters.” Or “People are giving me that look again when I tell them what my masters will be, ‘Oh, what will you do with an arts degree?’ like I haven’t thought this through for the past nine years.” Or the most poplar, “You’re not good enough.”
I’m scared. I’m terrified of figuring this process out by myself. For the first time in my education I’m finding a career path outside of my past false beliefs that I need to do what my professors and peers are doing in order to be successful. This is a choice placed all on me and I feel the weight of it.
But there is also excitement.
I used to think being strong meant I had to plaster on a smile and tell the world I was fine when I felt nothing inside. I thought it was weakness asking for help outside of my family. For much of my adolescence I made choices based from fear; fear of failure, fear of disappointment, fear of rejection. It’s taken me years and failures to realize it’s possible to be brave and scared at the same time.
There is strength in facing your fears. Peering into the shadows may go against everything my fight or flight sensors are screaming at me, but that’s when I realize the shadows are only a trick of the light. Despite my fears, when I am actively seeking further light and truth I know that is what I’ll be led to.
I’m learning to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. I’m learning to love myself through the growing process. I’m learning that if I avoid experiences to avoid getting hurt I also shut myself off from feeling joy.
As Aslan tells Lucy in C.S. Lewis’ The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,
Because being vulnerable is the bravest thing I can be.
Sarah Lorna
SARAH LORNA BAILEY 