I've been toying with the idea of a blog for a little while now, but for the most part it was just a fleeting thought. I've realized, however, that one of the biggest aspects of my thoroughly complicated personality is that anything I do, I take forever to actually do. There is so much consideration, and debating, and way too many pro/con lists. Most of the time I haven't even decided to leap until I'm already falling through the air.
Take, for example, this past summer, when some friends and I decided it would be the "best idea ever" to jump off a 30-foot train trestle into the water below. After our little trek through the woods, the first person to immediately jump was, of course, my best friend Mario. Even before his shoes were off his feet, I knew he'd already made the decision to be the first to fly. I've always admired that about him; no questions asked, no fear- just freedom. As I watched him plummet towards the water, I could think of only one thing- if only I could be so sure. If only I knew with such clarity that my actions and decisions didn't affect me as much as I believed they did. If only, if only, if only. I have always been so scared of my every step, always hearing that little voice, "Emily, take a step back. Emily, take a breath. Emily, don't leap. Emily, don't forget yourself. Emily, don't get in too deep. Emily, you can't do this. Emily, don't." And I always listened... always. The only time I didn't listen was all of the times I fell in love. Those times, when I could get hurt the most, I always leapt... usually, before looking, before thinking, before realizing, "this might not be the best idea." I love hard... I always have.
But, back to the story. Mario jumped. Donnie jumped. Gabe jumped. Jon jumped. Almost everyone made that decision to feel their toes leave solid ground, to feel their stomach hit their throat, to trust the water below to cradle them as they were sucked towards the mud below. Everyone, that is... except me. I stood on that ledge, toeing the line, inching my way forward and then snapping back to attention as the voice grabbed hold of my insides and squeezed.
"Emily... don't."
Mario tried everything. 3-2-1, encouragement, yelling, all of it. But the voice was louder, the voice kept winning. 99.9% of my entire being knew that I'd already given up... until he decided to count down from 10 instead of 3.
The only thing I remember is the smack of the cold water against my feet, and then all of that terrifying, beautiful darkness enveloping me before I kicked my way to the surface. He hadn't even gotten to 6 when I found myself free-falling with the weight of every decision I've ever fought so hard to make falling off of me. I am not a spontaneous person... I do not make rash decisions. In that moment, though, I knew I could be more. And as I came up sputtering, my teeth chattering as I laughed the biggest belly laugh I've ever experienced, I knew that the strength I had inside of myself wasn't missing, it was just scared. Now... I'm not so scared.
So, that leaves us here. I don't know what decisions I'll have to make in the future, and I don't know that I'll be brave enough to leap every time. What I do know is that I am strong enough to choose.
