Leaps of faith into the great unknown are necessary. But that doesn’t mean we don’t anticipate the leap or prepare for that moment in advance. It sounds good, in theory, to proceed with reckless abandon. Like the lead in a Hollywood blockbuster who tosses a grenade into their old life and then steps out of the wreckage shiny and new.
Unfortunately, real life is different. And if you suffer from anxiety like I do, real life isn’t just different, it’s also much more terrifying.
When Twitter exploded with commentary on this topic a few weeks ago, I felt incredibly validated by all of the working writers who basically said, “you don’t have to leap without a parachute to be brave.”
I’d been grappling with this notion for a few months. While I want to be stronger in my convictions and braver in the pursuit of my dreams, I also don’t want to put myself in emotional or psychological danger.
So, here’s what I’ve decided–I will leap. When my 18 months are up on this invisible contract I have made with the Universe, I will leap. I will trust. I will try at this thing in earnest and I won’t give up when things get hard. But in the meantime, I will do whatever I can to create a safety net for this proverbial leap. I will pay off my debt. I will save up a 6-month emergency fund. I will finish several books. I will take care of my physical and mental health.
In other words, I will work to mitigate as much risk as possible, not because I think all risk is bad. But because I know how too much risk affects my body. It makes me worry, which makes me sick, and when I’m in that state of mind I can’t create. Which totally negates the goal of being a full-time creative.
Mitigating as much risk as possible does not make me any less committed or any less brave. It doesn’t lessen my chances of success. In fact, it bolsters them. Because when you have a plan, a map, a step-by-step guide leading to your destination, you’re much more likely to actually get there.
Sure, we may take a few detours, get lost a few times along the way. But the path doesn’t disappear just because we wander off of it. Especially, if we’re the ones who laid the track in the first place. When we lay the track it becomes ingrained in us and when a thing is ingrained in us we can always find our way back to it.