After the sudden loss of my birth father, I made a promise. Not the kind of promise you whisper into the void and forget by sunrise, but the kind you feel deep in your bones. A vow to myself: to start living more and fearing less.
This past weekend, I took the first step. I packed my bags, climbed into my car, and embarked on my first solo road trip across the border. No agenda. No safety net. Just me, the open road, and a quiet resolve to honor the him by showing up for my own life.
Along the way, I gave myself permission to grieve—really grieve—for the man I lost. Tears fell freely, unrestrained by timelines or expectations. I had driven to Pittsburgh for the first time with a purpose: to meet Janna, a fellow yogi and studio owner I’d only ever connected with on social media. Face to face, heart to heart, we shared stories, laughter, and that unspoken understanding that often blooms between kindred spirits.
Later, I did something completely out of character. I scanned the menu, not for the comforting familiarity of my usual choices, but for the weirdest thing on offer. Grilled oysters. What a wild, slimy gamble, I thought. But I ordered them anyway. And as I swallowed that briny mouthful, I realized something profound: this is what it means to live more. To choose curiosity over comfort. To taste life in all its unpredictable, salty weirdness.
When Fear Makes the Rules
Here’s the thing: often, our minds arrive at a destination long before we ever experience it. We script the story, complete with worst-case scenarios, before we’ve even set foot in the room. But if life is what our thoughts make it, then maybe—just maybe—we have the power to rewrite the script. To redefine what living truly means.
That thought lingered as I reflected on all the ways I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person. Waiting for my life to feel “ready” before I allow myself to leap.
How often has fear held the pen, dictating my choices, and tethering me to safe, stagnant ground? Fear has kept me from growth, from evolution, from joy. It has whispered lies about timing, worthiness, and not-enoughness. And oh, how easy it is to believe those lies when you’re tired, when the dreams you chase feel impossibly far away.
Risk, Optimism, and Keeping Promises
But here’s the twist: I’m not a stranger to risk. I’ve taken plenty—often on ill-fated relationships or leaps that landed nowhere near where I hoped. And you’d think, by now, I’d be a little more cautious, a little more gun-shy. But optimism is a stubborn companion of mine. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.
Take my novel, for instance. I’ve promised myself over and over again to finish that final edit and send it to publishers and agents. And yet, life always seems to intervene. Or maybe—just maybe—it’s not life, but fear and ego in clever disguise, tricking me into thinking I’m too busy. Too overwhelmed. Too uncertain.
Or is it something else? Maybe I’m not prioritizing this goal because, deep down, I know publishing this novel would mean confronting the possibility of rejection—or success. Both are terrifying in their own way.
Questions Worth Asking
And so, I ask myself: where else am I second-guessing my choices? Where else am I stuck in the excuse of “not enough time”? Where have I let fear masquerade as logic, holding me back from the kind of messy, brave living that makes life worth living?
And maybe I’ll ask you, too:
Where are you waiting?
Where is fear making the choices for you?
What would happen if you decided—right here, right now—to live more and fear less?
Because here’s what I’m learning: life isn’t waiting for us to feel ready. It’s unfolding in all its messy, imperfect glory, whether we’re strapped in for the ride or not. The only question is, will we let ourselves taste it? Even the weird, briny, grilled-oyster bits?
For me, the answer is yes.
What about you?
