Taking Life with Chances

The challenge with having a vivid imagination is that, for me, it comes with irrational fears.

My favorite example is from the first surf lesson I took with a friend who also happened to be a lifeguard. I told him I didn’t want to wear the leash around my ankle. When he asked why, I explained that all I could picture was getting pulled under a wave, the leash wrapping around my neck, and my surfboard dragging me to my death.

He looked at me with part amusement and part concern. Can’t say I blame him.

Needless to say, none of that happened. Nor did I ever master standing up on the board. I much preferred sitting on it in the middle of the ocean.

Then there are the horrible thoughts that come to mind anytime I leave Chance with a dog sitter. My brain immediately jumps to losing him early in some horrible way. Those fears used to—and sometimes still do—feel so real that it’s hard to tell where my imagination ends and reality begins.

It isn’t only fear that gets ahead of me. Sometimes it’s hope.

It also creates a challenge whenever I want to try something new. Growing up, it was sports and other extracurricular activities. As an adult, it’s shown up in new jobs, deciding to relocate on a whim, and relationships.

I don’t just imagine trying something. I imagine how it’s all going to turn out.

During my very limited time as a cheerleader, our team competed to Janet Jackson’s If. In my head, I had that routine down. In my head, I was going to be the one who stood out. I wasn’t a great cheerleader for a number of reasons, but I was convinced this was going to be my time to shine.

Every rehearsal, I would mess up the same part. We’d stop. I’d try it again. I’d mess it up again. I could feel the rest of the team getting frustrated while I held everyone up.

When I felt like I had officially failed, I quit. I gave up completely.

Looking back, I don’t think I quit because I couldn’t learn the routine. I think I quit because reality didn’t match the version I’d already played out in my head.

I can’t help but wonder how many bigger risks I’ve talked myself out of because reality didn’t match the version I’d already created in my head.

The older I get, the more I realize this wasn’t just a cheerleading story. It was one of the first times I can remember my imagination getting so far ahead of reality that I talked myself out of continuing. It’s a pattern that still shows up today, whether it’s convincing myself not to go to a backyard BBQ because I’ve already imagined every awkward conversation, or talking myself out of a business idea before I’ve even given it a fair chance.

Maybe that’s why something a therapist once said has stuck with me for so many years.

“If you can create a negative storyline, you can create a positive one.”

I’ve thought about that a lot.

The challenge isn’t creating positive stories. I’ve never had trouble doing that. The challenge is remembering they’re still just stories. They’re possibilities, not promises.

How do I stop letting the stories rooted in fear keep me from living, while still believing the ones rooted in hope enough to turn them into reality?

Is it fair to me—or to the people I let into my life—that I’ve already imagined so much before any of it has had the chance to happen?

I don’t know.