Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.

Seth Godin recently posted a blog titled "Check-In, Chicken."  And while I'm not actually part of a small, closely-involved team that would have check-in meetings every morning (or even once a week, although maybe we should consider it), his suggestion is good for even an individual level.  So here goes:

What are you afraid of?
I'm afraid of failure - that everything I've done in my life and in my writing career to date will not be enough for the job I'm doing, and I will disappoint everyone (myself included).  In my mind, I'll run dry of ideas, be unable to contribute any further, and become a leech or burden to the company.  Conversely, I'm afraid that the company will decide I'm no longer providing what they want, to the standard they want, and I'll be let go without explanation.

I know these are unreasonable fears.  Growing up, I received approval based largely on my performance.  I know that I am able to (and most of the time do) outwork my peers, especially in the past decade as "my peers"have become increasingly less reputable.  And I know that I want to learn, I want to improve, I want to be taught and guided.  So I have nothing to fear except fear itself.  (Right? *Worried face)

I'm afraid of success - there are several new relationships (work, social, housing) that have the potential to be long-term - longer term than I've ever experienced.  Talk about new realms of scariness...

According to a New York Times article, 20-somethings these days have at least seven jobs before they turn 30.  I'm happy to only have accounted for half of my job quotient (although I have four more years till 30 arrives).  I personally would like the stability and routine of a long-term job.  I would also like to buy a house - I desperately wish to tear down wallpaper and repaint and buff floors and rebuild stairs without asking permission.  And I would like a stable, fulfilling relationship.  But it would take me pages and pages of writing to record all the even more terrifying things that go along with these desires.

Hi, I'm Jess, and I'm a chicken.