Good to Be Nervous
I felt a weird emotion the other day. I got nervous. Not scared nervous. That happened the time my friend and I drove home through the dark woods after watching the Blair Witch Project. No, this was that childlike nervous feeling, like my first day at a new school.
Sometimes when an unusual emotion pops up, I lean in. I try to take a step back mentally and look at my life from an observational perspective. Let’s say I get really embarrassed. Like the time I was trying to show off with historical facts I had read about George Washington, only to be corrected by a child in front of his parents. Caught red-handed with a mouth full of dumb. Internally, I looked like one of those Disney characters whose body turns into a thermometer, the red color rising from my toes to my head as the heat of my shame grew with each passing moment. But then I remembered something. You can’t fake this emotion. You can’t force yourself to be embarrassed. You actually have to feel it in order to feel it. Sure you can act it out, like in a game of charades, but you can’t force your body to experience it on command.
In the heat of the moment, if I can remember this, my mind shifts from drowning in that emotion to looking at myself as some kind of science experiment. I try to go out-of-body and watch myself feeling the emotion. Sounds weird, but it’s oddly fun. It’s a different sensory experience. Like riding on a rollercoaster versus watching a YouTube video of riding a rollercoaster. Imagine if someone told you they felt angry, and their emotional state transferred to you. That’s some X-Men kind of power.
So instead of just being embarrassed, I became a mutant and watched my mind and body go through a bizarre transformation. I focused on my skin feeling hot. I watched my mind race through a series of fact checking operations to determine if I was wrong about what I had just said. I observed my facial expressions lose control and contort in ways that I did not want them to. I watched my body give up the game, which was kind of fun. And it was a hell of a lot better than just wallowing in shame for a few minutes.
That’s what I try to do when I’m experiencing emotions I can’t manufacture. But this latest nervous feeling didn’t allow me to do that. I think nervousness is kind of different. Since there is a level of worry involved, that animal part of our brain inches toward fight or flight. When this happens, you don’t have a lot of mental space for a science experiment on yourself.
What produced this feeling? The rock climbing gym. More specifically, a speed climbing wall. My daughter and I had been observing it for weeks. There are two identical lanes for people to race each other. There’s a clock with a countdown. It’s a whole production.
We have watched a lot of people do it. They all seem to be six foot five, muscle bulging athletes who camp out in this facility. Some kids do the race as well. They are just small versions of the big powerful people. They might be even more intimidating. How is someone 25 years my junior so much better than I could ever be?
Then one night, my daughter says she wants to climb it. No problem, I’ll ask. You have to get permission from the front desk. Truth is, I have actually wanted to try since we first walked in. But I get nervous every time I consider it. First of all, it’s right at the entrance. Front and center. Everyone who climbs anywhere in the gym walks by it. And people stop and watch. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, and I didn’t want to find out with a bunch of experienced climbers judging my performance.
Like all parents, I now use my child as a shield for asking something I didn’t feel comfortable asking myself. It was my daughter who was interested, not me. See how I just lied to myself?
The front desk attendant told me that the speed climbing club met in 20 minutes, and that it was open to the public. We could try it then. Great. Nothing like a whole class of people to watch your first attempt.
When the group showed up, my daughter and I walked over, and I got fidgety as all get-out. I tried to play it cool for my daughter, but internally my emotions were crackling. I couldn’t do my normal trick, I actually forgot to try. I was focused on the tension between my desire to try something new, and the fear of failure in front of the cool kids.
My daughter gave it a go, but unfortunately the holds are really far apart. Her small frame just couldn't reach. She made it five feet in the air each time, then came back to earth. As the leader of the group was unbuckling the carabiner on her harness, he looked at me and asked if I wanted to try. I froze. Yes I do, but no I don’t. Luckily my daughter helped me out. “Yes of course he does,” she said. Now I have no choice, but also thank you.
I heave myself up the wall, focused on one thing - don’t fall. Doesn’t matter how fast, just make it to the top. And I do. And it was awesome. And now I want to try it again. And now my fears are dissipating quickly. They disappear completely when I get to the bottom. One of the muscle men in a sleeveless shirt gives me a congratulatory high five. “Nice work,” he says. “Now you will be addicted to it like the rest of us.” I look around, and instead of seeing an intimidating click, I now see a hodgepodge family of adults, their kids, college enthusiasts, and a couple of high schoolers with extra long hair. They are all just people. They are a community.
You see, fear does a weird thing. It clouds our vision. It projects images that aren’t there. If I hadn’t been so nervous, I would have remembered that communities love new members. In fact, one of the coolest things for any community is welcoming novices into the group. Communities aren’t closed, they are open for business. They love growth, they want to help, they want to give you a chance. These climbers weren’t going to make fun of me, they were going to encourage me.
To get nervous is a completely normal feeling. Unescapable really. When your body starts down that track, it’s hard to get off. But I’m thankful my little sidekick of a daughter forced me out of my comfort zone. She helped me do something I was going to avoid simply on the off chance that I sucked at it. And even if I had, isn’t it better to try and fail than to never try at all. I think someone wise once said that.
