Oceanside Send-off

I had the tremendous fortune to be one of the (relatively speaking) few people allowed onto the grounds of the Kennedy Space Center to witness the final launch of the space shuttle program.  In short, it was amazing.  The air was prickling with anticipation as they recited the final countdown.  Then, clouds started billowing from the distant launchpad.  Next, a burst of ultra-bright, blinding light, and the shuttle was off.  It moved so quickly, yet gracefully, turning as it pierced the sky.  The shuttle was nearly out of our sight by the time the sound of it reached our ears.

My friends, the air vibrated.  It popped.  I know I say the word "awesome" a lot, but that day gave the word a whole new meaning.

Before we knew it, the shuttle was out of sight and we were packing up our bags for the four-hour ride (which, on a non-final-launch-ever day, would take about one hour) to Daytona Beach, where we would stay for the rest of the weekend.  We said goodbye to the shuttle, goodbye to that invaluable portion of the space program, and hello to the rest of our short vacation, which, for some inexplicable reason now seemed a bit trivial, but happily welcomed nonetheless.

As you know, I was experiencing a lot of apprehension in the days leading up to this trip.  What I at first believed was a speed bump in my journey toward health has proven to be more of an emergency roadwork, we-have-no-idea-how-long-this-is-going-to-take-ma'am kind of situation.  And it all boils down to one thing:

Fear.

I am afraid of so many things.  Little things.  Big things.  Inconsequential things.  Really consequential things.  Much of my motivation, my truest, deepest motivation, is driven by fear.  And I am tired of it.

Getting on the plane to Florida, I was afraid of flying.  Afraid my cats would fall into the toilet and drown.  Afraid that I had forgotten to pack something.  Afraid that my car would be vandalized while it was in the extended stay parking lot.  Afraid I would break my dad's very expensive camera lens.  Afraid that teenage boys would laugh at me in my bathing suit.  Afraid that I would get eaten by a shark in the ocean.  Afraid that the hotel bed would give me crabs.  Afraid that I would eat too much and move too little.  Afraid afraid afraid.

The night we checked in to the beach hotel, my three traveling companions all went out to take a moonlight dip in the ocean.  All I could think was, Um.  No.  Jaws.  Opening scene.  Not to mention the killer jellyfish and sly stingrays just waiting to turn me into a literal Beach Barb-ie.  So I sat there, alone, while they went off and had fun.

The next day, equipped with my sneakers and plenty of Deadmau5 on my iPod, I went for a long walk on the beach.  My husband accompanied me on the first half, then decided to jog back when we turned around.  So I had some time to myself to zone out to the beat and commune with my beloved ocean.

At some point during those solitary moments, I knew that I had to let the fear go.  Release it.  Send it off, say goodbye to it, just like we did at that final shuttle launch - with respect for how it has changed my life and anticipation of a future without it.

Always a writer, I had to document it.  I wrote out the word "FEAR" in the sand.  "F".  I'm afraid of failing.  I'm afraid of succeeding.  "E".  I'm afraid people will judge me.  I'm afraid they won't notice.  "A".  I'm afraid to trust myself.  I'm afraid to trust others.  "R".  I'm afraid of losing myself.  I'm afraid of being who I really am.

I wrote those letters, and I imagined my fears seeping out of my fingers as I plunged them into the sand.  And then I waited.  I waited for the ocean, for nature, for God, to wash it away.  And they did.

After that, if I looked very carefully, I could still see the word written there in the sand.  But it had lost its power.  And I knew - no, I trusted - that as more waves met the shore, it would be erased completely.

For the rest of my vacation, I embraced my fearlessness.  I dove into the ocean and relished how small I was compared to its grandeur.  I let the saltwater smooth my skin and nourish my spirit.  I enveloped my taste buds with cheesy Doritos and creamy Coldstone ice cream and I truly enjoyed it.  Without realizing it, I walked so much that I not only caught up with my goal to walk 100 miles in 100 days, I am now ahead of schedule.  I was free.  I am free.  And I like how free feels.

What are your fears?  Are you ready to let go of them?  What's holding you back?