This year, instead of New Year’s Resolutions, I’m setting goals for the new year (more on that later). I’ve been thinking about what goals I want to set, how ambitious I want them to be, whether they ought to be mostly about professional targets or personal. But one thing that I am absolutely sure of is that at least one of them should be something that scares me.
In general, I’m not a particularly brave person. I’m very good at talking myself out of risks, justifying avoiding things that make me uncomfortable, and telling myself it’s totally fine that I didn’t do that thing I was scared of. I see it as one of my biggest failings. But the approaching onset (or maybe it’s already here?) of middle age is doing something strange to me: it’s laying bare the extent to which my own failure to accomplish goal has been a direct result of me getting in my own way. Giving in to fear has been a big part of that. Increasingly, facing and overcoming the things that scares me seem less optional than it did before.
So, I’ll have more to say about exactly what terrifying things I’ll be doing this year, but for now, facing my fear feels more exhilarating than anything else.
inga gardner 