I was watching the show Vikings last night on the History channel and they kept having commercials for the show “Alone” – a reality show where people have to survive in the wild all alone. Whenever I see shows like that, I have to laugh, not at the participants’ expense or anything but because I know for a fact that there is absolutely no way in hell I would EVER be able to do something like that. I am a big fat scaredy pants, and I will fully own that. I wouldn’t have any problem living off the land, and I don’t think that I’d have too much of a problem being by myself. Dealing with wild animals though? That terrifies me. They would smell my fear from miles around. Even beautiful, timid deer scare me – “that animal could stomp me to death” is what I think when I get up close to them, knees knocking together with fear.
This morning when I was driving to work, I thought more about that type of show. I thought that maybe, MAYBE, if there was a show like that but the participants were allowed to live in little houses then I could perhaps visualize myself doing it. Of course, I would only go out in daylight to forage for food and collect water, and any snap of a twig type sound that I heard would send me scurrying back to the safety of the house.
I don’t know where my fear of wild animals really even came from. When I was young my mom would march me out and about in mountains and wilderness and point out different edible plants and flowers, and demonstrate how to do things like crush certain mosses down into a flour like substance to mix with water and cook over an open fire. She would gleefully tell me how wild animals are more scared of us than we are of them, and proclaim that people who get attacked by cougars and grizzlies were just acting stupidly. Maybe my fear of wild animals came from a fear of my mom thinking that I was stupid. Maybe I’ve built that “little house” around me over the years, my safety net; my bottles of wine that I scurry back to every time something feels scary or overwhelming.
When I was driving and thinking about this all this morning, I thought about some of the things that I’ve hidden behind the glass over. Fear. Drinking always made me feel funnier, sexier, more adventurous (in many different areas in life). How could I navigate through life and situations without that? Now that I’m sober, I’m trying to find the real me, and it’s really interesting and more than a little scary actually. I’m adventurous, but not recklessly so like I was when I was drunk. I love to laugh over silly things so I guess that makes me a little funny, and the other day I even got up close to one of those “has the potential to stomp you to death even though they look cute and innocent” bambi creatures, so maybe I’m braver than I thought all those years that I spent hiding behind the wine glass 😉 I know that it’s not going to be all perfect and wonderful but I’m sure that there will be a lot of perfect and wonderful moments in the future, and a lot of times that I’m going to have to face my fears, and face them sober. I think I’m finally ready to take more adventurous walks further and further from my little house. 93 days today ❤