ripping off the band-aid of fear
i’ve ripped off the band-aid of fear
time and time again.
When I was 13 years old, I discovered a secret I had been hiding from myself for my whole life. After months of deliberating, sifting over countless fantasies, spending long nights steeped in fear, wondering at my computer screen, whispering the words to my pillow as I lie awake, I couldn’t keep it inside any longer.
It was a school night, and with a hushed voice, I called my best friend, Alex, on our landlines. Her mom answered, and as I checked each room in my house to make sure my mom wasn’t listening in, I asked for her.
I walked around my room in small circles, the sweat from my palms making it harder to grip the phone. I told her there was a secret I had to share. The fear in my stomach rose like a thick smoke, wrapped itself around each bone of my rib cage, filled my lungs, and nearly choked me at my trachea. Finally, I pushed the words through my lips, like boulders being heaved off a cliff.
“I’m... gay.”
Finally spoken out loud, the words electrocuted my entire body. As I laid in bed, the whites of my eyes stared up at a blank ceiling. My trepidation for what was to come was overwhelming.
The next day, Alex saw me in the hallway of our middle school. She threw her books down, her bag against the lockers, and ran towards me. A toothy, messy smile encompassed the totality of her face. “I LOVE YOU,” she proclaimed as she squeezed me in her arms.
When I realized that at the core of my identity, the world I lived in thought I was less than because of my sexual desires, I was cut deep. The wound morphed quickly. It shrouded itself, as wounds do, under a bed of fear. Fear of not being enough. Of not being accepted. Of not being worthy.
But as so many people who came before me looked that fear in the face and said, “let’s fight,” I too put on my boxing gloves.
I was incredibly lucky. Insanely lucky. Because of the widespread, triumphant approval I was showered with from my friends, and really my entire community, I learned at a pivotal time in my adolescent development that facing my fear and jumping off the cliff reaped major rewards.
It instilled in me a pattern of seeing fear in myself and tackling it head on. A pattern I’m proud of. When I get afraid, I get determined. Fear is the signal for me to run as fast as I can in the direction of what I’m most afraid of.
This past week, I went to California, and had an opportunity to face some of my fears. I traveled across the country to a city where I didn’t know a soul. I slept in my car, went to crowded bars alone, and took wrong turns on 6 lane freeways. I sparked up old friendships and established firm boundaries. I went to my first ever nude beach, ripped off my clothes, and danced naked, practicing yoga in front of strangers on a beach looking out at the vast Pacific Ocean.
The bandaid of fear is complicated. It tells us that what we’re facing is difficult. It’s not always right to take it off; sometimes it’s better to leave it covered up. To let the wound soak in some healing.
But then, when you’re ready, you know: it’s time to rip it off, and let the scars that make you who you are be seen by the world.
This week, I challenge you. What is that thing that you are afraid of? What is the band-aid of fear protecting you from? Do you need to steep any longer, or are you ready to rip the damn thing off, get buck naked, and run into the ocean?