When the Fear is Realized

Fear of being laughed at… especially being pointed out so others can join in.

I was afraid to go to the gym. This was not a new fear after some big life change. No. This was a lifelong fear.

Elementary school PE–I failed, well, at that time they didn’t call it “Fail” it was “Little Effort.” Excellent – Good – Satisfactory – Little Effort. (In the higher grades they would change “Little Effort” to “Unsatisfactory.”)

I was afraid to play kickball because I might miss the ball. Like Charlie Brown missing the football. Only worse, because there was no Lucy to interfere. Just me missing the ball rolling right toward me.

Jumping rope and dodgeball, those were the only PE days I felt okay to participate in. I could avoid getting hit with the ball and, if I didn’t avoid the ball, I just had to sit out. I was decent enough at sitting, as long as I didn’t have to be still!

At the time I was in high school, we only needed two years of PE to graduate. I barely passed my sophomore year after having failed one semester my freshman year. I had to take one semester my senior year.

People were laughing at me not participating, for some reason that was more acceptable to me than laughing at me because I wasn’t athletic. Fear is not a good master. But master me it did. For decades.

Fast forward to what is now two decades ago, I was in Las Vegas for the weekend with my husband and another couple. Early (ish) Saturday morning I was in the hotel gym by myself. I was on the stairmill. It was my first time. I thought, I know how to walk up stairs, I can do this.

It was way more difficult than I was expecting. I set the time to 8 minutes. Six minutes in, there were two couples in the hallway, outside the window walls of the gym. They were walking toward the elevator. Two women began laughing at me. They were talking loudly. From my periphery, I could see they were literally pointing at me as they laughed. Their companions asked them to go to the room. The women refused. The men got on the elevator. However, the women stayed behind. They continued to heckle me as I stepped one foot after the other on the stairmill.

I had to add minutes to the time. I just couldn’t bear to get off while they were laughing at me. What would I do? Crumble on the floor and cry? I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t. Again, I hit the up arrow and added another minute. As they continued to heckle me and I continued to add minutes to the machine, reality suddenly made connections in my brain.

My greatest fear was actually happening. I was in a gym and people were literally laughing and pointing at me! And what happened? Nothing! I didn’t die. I didn’t vaporize. The world didn’t end. I just kept stepping.

Next time fear tells you “this” could happen. Ask fear, so what if it does? What if it does happen? The world won’t end. I’ll be okay.