Am I reluctant to explore my own reluctance to playing life full out? Life is ready and waiting for me to take off. Yet I hesitate at the starting line, unsure of the ‘right’ first step. “Step into the unknown,” I tell myself, but I remain rooted to the spot, reluctant to follow through.
Does this reluctance stem from a fear of the unknown or a fear of letting go or a fear of finding something out I’d rather remain in the dark about?
If I’m in the dark when I look in the mirror, I won’t have to face my own reflection. If the light is on, will I even recognise the woman looking back? What if that light is emanating from me?
Or does my reluctance stem from a fear of standing out from the crowd, a fear of being talked about behind my back, a fear of being seen as too big for my boots and above my station? By whose merit? Who is in charge of this station? The ceiling is glass so they can witness the smash.
My reluctance roams freely inside. It yells ‘No’ as I window shop, before I even get to try something on for size. It shows scenes on a loop of people belittling me, silencing me or scorning me simply because I dare to be … me. It is reluctant for me to be taken for a fool, seen as “too much” or “not enough.” It views all that I do through the lens of ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes.’ It warns me to play small, to stay safe. And to fit in.
I am grateful that my reluctance has played its part. It has been with me for years. It stepped up when necessary and kept me safe. It oversteps at times, enforcing expectations that aren’t even mine. Perhaps it is also playing by someone else’s rules or expectations.
Even as a child, it often took the lead. I have a vivid memory of when my younger brother and I were in a music class and the teacher asked for volunteers to sing. My brother volunteered. My reluctance caused an absolute riot – propelling me to lower my brother’s hand as it tut-tutted that my brother’s reluctance was asleep on the job. It has been with me for so long it believes it belongs ‘til death us do part.
But my reluctance is reluctant to explain the rules, as if they are a given. I didn’t set proper boundaries or establish any rules, so where did they come from? It is, I fear, reluctant to admit that it is misguided or quit out of protest for all the times I’ve ignored it. It is reluctant to be replaced, to resign or retire.
Am I reluctant to stand up to my reluctance, to reduce its load or banish it completely? Maybe I could begin by charging it rent or imposing a tax on it. Or the rebel in me could simply rewrite the rules. I quite like the idea of letting it race about frantically, trying to keep up with me – until it runs out of steam. That could be quite the scene.
I know there are times when I didn’t heed it as I knew I didn’t need it. Of late I find it more of challenge to ignore it. I get the sense that my reluctance and I are both a bit confused. I’m confused by its constant interference, and it’s confused by my reluctance to appreciate it.
As I thrive it knows it can’t survive. We exist in inverse proportion – when it grows, I shrink. Funny how I was reluctant to write the opposite – when I flourish, it withers. That’s it though, isn’t it? When I stand up and speak, it will grow weak. When I say what I mean, it will keep quiet. When I expand, it will fade and take up less space.
Am I reluctant to see that I’ve been reluctant to face my own reluctance? Am I reluctant to see that my reluctance is like a taut rope keeping me running on the spot, expending endless energy, going nowhere? All I have to do is relax, let the rope slide down, step out and run free. Run as me.
Enough!
I’ve outgrown my reluctance – an update is long overdue. No more overzealous pop-up blocker, no more second-guessing: ‘Are you sure? Are you really sure?’ It’s time. I click ‘Proceed anyway.’ I am.
The rewards of the unknown await on the horizon just beyond my reluctance.
