The great un-motivator

About six months ago (although it feels like a lifetime ago) I was talking to someone about our greatest fears. His was giving up, ceasing to live and merely existing. He asked me for mine but I didn't have an answer ready. It wasn't really something I had thought about before. (I'm fearless!) Finally, I responded with:

"I think, I'm afraid of finding out that caring doesn't matter. Caring is probably my strongest trait and worst character flaw. If I one day realized that caring couldn't really make a difference, it would destroy me. I'm not sure what exactly would have to happen for me to come to that conclusion, so maybe it's that particular event that I am actually afraid of. "

"Caring matters," he replied in a way that wasn't exactly comforting but more saying that my fear wasn't legitimate. (it's MY fear, how can you argue against someone's fear? Fears aren't rational.) He finished by adding,"whenever I've needed people they have been there for me and made clear that they cared. It made all the difference."

I argued back, "I see caring as a positive thing of course, that's easy. But I call it a flaw because it can also cause pain. Caring less would make my life much easier but then I and/or somebody else would lose out inevitably. So I guess it's caring till it kills".

Then I brought up a hypothetical situation. "You give up tomorrow. I would assume that this would involve some noticeable change in attitude that would be of a concern to your friends and family. This group, along with me, Miss Care Bear herself, would want to do everything possible to try to get you to turn around. So you either yield to the caring and stop giving up--what happens to your fear?-- or you don't, in which case caring has done nothing and my fear is realized".

We concluded that we essentially had the same fear. We agreed, and that was all that mattered at the time. About a month later I wouldn't have cared if we agreed or not, I'd just wish he'd answer.

Today I still believe in the same fear but I think I am now also burdened with a new one. I feel like there is something trying to tell me that I am not supposed to be here. While a long series of events seems to have lead me up to this point, it now feels like perhaps I am supposed to make a major change in direction and location. However, I can't really tell if this feeling is a gut instinct, or part of some dream my heart has created to find a new adventure. Either way, I have a hard time trusting the message. It seems that my instinct and my heart have led me down some pretty wicked paths over the last while. Maybe if I had just stuck with logic I could have avoided a few messes.

I think of that little house that seemed so right. I remember talking to my agent the day after the inspection. I had to make my mind up by 4:00 that afternoon. She told me that she had never come out of an inspection before not knowing what to do. It always seemed clear--yes the house is fine, or no, it's about to fall down. This time, she didn't know what to tell me.

"What does your gut say?" she asked me.

I almost laughed. "My gut checked out long ago," I said. While I had had "the feeling" almost immediately upon seeing the house that it was the one, at that point I no longer knew what to do. My heart was already feeling defeated though. I half wanted to ask her if she could recommend to me a dating service where I could find a rich old man to marry and buy me a pretty little house, filled with all the shoes I could ever ask for.

As you know, in the end I let my logical head make the final call to pass on the house. The foundation was questionable. Okay for the short term, but risky past five or seven years. My heart cried and my gut instinct completely lost its confidence. As a result, all I'm operating on these days is boring logic*.

Given the string of heartaches I've suffered, I'm really not excited to give heart and gut another chance, even though I desperately want to listen to them again. They're just more fun than logic, until we get into trouble that is. So here I am, pretty much paralyzed by my fear, and also afraid of missing out on some absolutely mind blowing adventure. I'm stuck and I guess I'm hoping someone or something pulls me out of the cement before I become part of the sidewalk.

*I actually wrote the first act of a play starring me, my logic, and my imagination. I kind of liked it. If you'd like to see it, e-mail me and I'll send it to you, or its secret location (yes, that secret location).