Face your fears and say yes
“Do one thing every day that scares you.” Eleanor Roosevelt is credited with having said that. I don’t know if the credit is correct, but I know the sentiment certainly is. And I waited way too long to start taking that advice.
I was always the bench sitter, the coat holder, the seat saver. I never did the things; I watched the things. I documented the things. I witnessed the things.
But I never ever did them.
I was scared of everything. My mom was super afraid of everything, and I wore that fear like a suffocating blanket: That horse could throw you off. That hiking trail could trip you. That ski lift could dump you. That amusement ride could break you in half.
It’s no fun to do anything when you have to lie in order to participate, and the specter of doom is constantly hanging over you. So I just said no. To everything.
Then one day, just after I turned 40, everything changed. I was waiting in line to get on Splash Mountain (RIP) at Disney World with my daughter and then-girlfriend, and we had reached “the point of no return,” where those just keeping the line waiters company need to leave the line or commit to riding.
They begged me to ride, and as I was protesting, I saw the dreaded “mom” bench out of the corner of my eye. It was filled with exhausted moms covered in spilled drinks and discarded snacks and weepy children.
I looked back at all of the people in line so excited to ride, and I thought, “This is your life, Jenny Block. Where do you want to live? On the rides or the benches?”
So I went on that ride and that led to the year of yes and, after that, the life of yes. If an opportunity presents itself, I jump in feet first.
It’s been amazing and terrifying and life-changing. I continue to find myself challenged and tempted to offer to hold the bags and phones. But then I take a deep breath and rappel off the 20-story building and dive in the pitch-black sea and ski down the steep slope and climb the sheer rocks.
I’ve gotten pretty good at making myself do the adventurous things. But what I still have trouble with is doing the things that are scary for other reasons.
Like the things I’m afraid I won’t be strong enough to do, or the things I’m afraid I’ll be too grossed-out to do, or the things that I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself while doing.
I recently had the chance to really test myself on those two points. I was staying in Zihuatanejo in Mexico, a magical and oft-overlooked destination not far from Ixtapa. I was staying at the swanky Thompson, which is how I found myself confronted by my most recent “will I or won’t I” moment.
Chef Javier Garcia Cerillo is the executive chef at the property, and he was, much to my surprise, the reason for my most recent “challenge accepted” moment.
I didn’t expect a few days at any luxury resort would present any challenges barring which fabulous cocktail to order or whether to lounge on the gorgeous beach or at the fabulous pool.
But when I met Chef, the whole tenor of the trip changed. He said I could. And I listened. So I did.
It all started when we set out to go deep sea fishing. I found myself a comfy spot on the boat with no intention of actually fishing. But when Chef got a big one on the line, he called me over. All that familiar fear started rushing in.
“I can’t pull that in,” I said.
“You can do it. I’ll help you,” he said.
Those are my favorite magic words. I was still scared — scared I wasn’t strong enough; scared I would lose the fish.
In other words, scared I’d embarrass myself.
So, just like I’ve been doing since the inception of the year of yes, I told my inner critic to sit down and shut up, and I reeled that fish in (with Chef’s help, of course).
At that point, I figured I had done my one scary thing for the day. But when we got back to the resort, Chef asked if I wanted to clean the fish we had caught. I did not want to clean the fish.
The fish was huge. The knife was massive. I had no clue how to do it. Plus all of those blood and guts! I was scared of how I would respond. But Chef held out the knife for me and said, “You can do it. I’ll help you.”
And I could. And he did. I slit it open. I pulled out the guts with my bare hands. I let the blood cover my hands. And I filleted that fish.
That night, we ate that fish in a zillion different ways that Chef made for us, and I felt so grateful — grateful for the opportunity to confront the things that scare me (most of all failing) and grateful for Chef and all of the instructors and guides and masters and friends who have said, “You can do it. I’ll help you” over the years.
Now I try every day to do something that scares me, whether it’s adventuresome or gross or embarrassing or whatever. I finally — finally! — am not missing out.
I’d challenge you to challenge yourself to take a stab at whatever scares you. Like my dad always said, “You’ll never get a hit if you don’t take a swing.”
And ever since I said yes to Splash Mountain, it feels like it’s been nothing but home runs.
