Scared

What little filtration I have from my head to my mouth used to be even weaker. I’d spout whatever funny thought popped into my head without consideration.

I’ve swapped stories with people who share my affliction. It turns out that getting punched is a fairly common outcome. It only took a couple of times getting punched in the face to learn to either fight back or learn to talk my way out of pretty much anything.

As I age, my empathy (and sense of self-preservation) has strengthened that filter. Last week, I found myself in a familiar situation, but shockingly, I didn’t cause it. This time.

I’m lucky to park my car in a garage during the Texas summers. Heading home, I walked to the garage from my office. Before I got to my car, I saw a car parked behind me. This has happened before with work trucks. They always move, but my vehicle cameras make an 8-point turn easy.

I set my bag in the car and stepped around to the back to check the clearance. It was really tight, but I could make it out. The driver’s door swung open, and the driver asked about my car. He popped out of his car and confronted me. He was very big and very loud. He was angry. He showed some signs of being drunk.

He was clearly upset with me and my car. He shouted. He kept moving closer. I talked to him until he finally calmed down. We talked for a few minutes, and he got back into his car. He sat for a bit, then confronted me again. The second time was calmer, but felt scarier. He finally got into his car and left.

Relief.

I wanted to understand what he wanted, but mainly I wanted to defuse the situation. I felt the adrenaline. I was afraid. Afraid for me. Afraid for the other drivers who would come out after me. I couldn’t leave him there for my teammates.

I’ve had to tell this story a few times. I don’t like it. I don’t like that it happened. I was confused by people telling me I was “brave” for handling it. I knew how scared I was. I know scared isn’t brave.

But maybe it is. Maybe brave is feeling afraid and doing the thing anyway. Maybe it isn’t proceeding without fear. Maybe it’s proceeding in spite of the fear. I regularly reframe my anxiety to be excitement. I tell myself, “You are not anxious. You’re excited for this new opportunity.” It feels silly to type out, but it works. Maybe I just need to reframe my “afraid” as “brave” as I move through it anyway.

Can I recognize that anxiety feels just like excitement? Can I recognize that bravery feels just like fear? Will I take the next step anyway?

Be curious, be kind, be whole, do good things.