I've had a lot of time to think these last nine days and it is amazing what you can learn about yourself when you step back from the world for a bit.
I learned I'm not as introverted as I thought. I'm a bit stir crazy and I miss being around people. I'm tired of my house and I want to see the world again. Hopefully I'll be up for a drive to a park later today.
I learned that I need to have more fun. I fear I've become bland from too much school and work and I need to play. For me that looks like reading fiction, for one. Over the course of the last week I finished five books, all but one fiction, and the non-fiction was a Bill Bryson travel memoir, which comes close to fiction with his exaggeration and hyperbole.
Fun also includes watching movies. I am in love with cinema and part of me dreams of working on some kind of movie some day. Maybe helping create a documentary. Or writing a screenplay that becomes an animated film created by Lance. That would be cool.
I need more time to frolic in nature, to break out my camera and tinker with my loaned Lensbaby, to mess around with my paints and charcoal. If you've been reading my blog for a while, or if you remember Feisty Scribe, you've heard this refrain before. I think, however, that the surgery finally got me through my block about this.
But the biggest thing I learned this week relates to Fear. That nasty little monster, pussy-eyed and warty, sneaks up on me regularly and laughs maniacally in my ear. He whispers the most vile things to me, making my heart pound. I saw him quite a lot this week.
However, here's what I figured out, and it seems so damn simple when I write it: Fear is worse than the thing I'm afraid of. Fear is worse! Fear, with his foul breath, his razor-sharp tail, his disgusting crusty claws. He is worse than anything else. Worse than the doctor. Worse than surgery. Worse than pain. Worse than spiders and bankruptcy and failure and all those other things that plague my thoughts.
Fear was with me in pre-op. I was so nervous my body turned to ice and the nurse had to warm up my arm so she could give me the IV. My heart raced along like it was trying to win the Kentucky Derby. I gulped the air and tried to slow everything down so I could relax. When they finally wheeled me into the operating room, though, I knew there was no turning back. I had to face this surgery. (Of course, it did help that the anesthesia took over soon after.)
When I woke up dazed and dizzy in the recovery room, I wanted to shout with joy. I'd made it! I'd faced one of my biggest fears and I lived through it. Wow.
This is going to be my new mantra: Fear is worse and there is nothing I can't handle. Nothing. I can make it through whatever this life throws at me. And even better, I can come out the other side feeling stronger than before.