Sometimes you've just got to jump.
Each summer it would taunt me - in all its greatness and height - it was for the longest time the thing I feared the most.
I would stare up at it until resolve and the taunts of my peers finally forced me to face it.
Sucking in what felt like my last breathe, I would take hold of the rails and start to climb.
Each foot step would put more space between me and the ground. Something I was very physically aware of.
To distract myself, I would count each stair trying to hold back the terror that was ripping through my little body like a tsunami.
Finally at the top I would exhale. Trembling I would slide one foot in front of the other, tears streaming down my checks, until I reached the edge of the diving board.
Looking down, the terror would overwhelm me and I would stand there.
Sometimes, sobbing, sometimes just stricken like Lots wife, staring.
Inside my head, my voice would be saying, "It'll be ok, everything will be ok."
There was only one way down.
"Jump. Just jump," I would plead with myself.
Finally, I would.
After the first jump I could scanter up the stairs, without a care in the world, like every other child at the pool. I guess after being so close to the ground all winter long I would loss my "jump" legs and have to re-earn them each summer.
Life is like that ... when you wait too long, the fear starts to creep in; it plays havoc on your self confidence, your self esteem, your self worth.
Sometimes you've just got to jump.
For years now I've built up a wall of rules and regulations governing my behavior.
Let's face it: There was an appropriate way to act and an inappropriate way to act.
And I wouldn't be caught dead doing the latter. Not because I thought I was better than anyone but because I was afraid they wouldn't like me if I behaved badly.
But honestly it's been hard to get to know people when I've been so worried about being judged.
My fear segregated me and naively I thought ... I'm not sure what I thought other people would do ... .
While waiting, I filling my days with activities: knitting, crocheting, crafting, creating, volunteering, books and movies ... trying to fill the emptiness.
I tried to convince myself I was ok, that this fear was normal, that everything would be ok.
Standing in a girlfriend's bathroom, trying to justify it, I heard myself tell her simply, "I just don't trust myself."
I did have a propensity for dating men who didn't actually like me, so this made sense.
But it still didn't quell my desire -- to connect.
I have wanted, longed, in silence, until one day I find myself staring over the edge of the diving board again.
I realized that I had forgotten what human contact felt like. It was enough to drive a person mad. And mad I was ... the longing, the fear was overwhelming ... I longed for something that made me, frankly, nauseous.
I tried to explain it to my friends ... but it didn't make sense ... the uncontrollable terror. In social situations I would be fine until there was even a hint of interest and then I'd forget how to talk, stuttering like an imbecile I'd excuse myself, run, and hide. It was terrifying, it was embarrassing.
The voice in my head screaming the entire time, "What if I forgot how? What would they think of me? What if ... what if ... what if ... ?"
Sometimes you've just got to jump.
And hope that the universe catches you or at least a really cute life guard.
If not, you push yourself upwards, swim to the edge of the pool, climb out, and do it again.
Just don't wait three years until you do.
