The Nature of Fear

I want to start this post out with a foreword. Mom, if you’re reading this isn’t meant to scare you, or anyone who cares about my well being. That being said, I feel like it’s important to share my reaction to what for me, was a particularly frightening experience.

Looking up, I knew I was in trouble. Lying on my stomach on my surfboard the wave was easily ten times bigger than I was, and I was stuck right in front of its path. There was no where to go, no where to flee, just a lot of water about to crash down on top of me. When I walked out into the shallows that day, board in arm, I knew what I was getting into. The surf report said the waves would be ten to twelve feet tall. Some of you may be asking what I was thinking, if I had known that. But the truth is, I have surfed and caught waves that big before. I figured I was fine, naively not taking into account that not all waves and conditions are created equally. There is a big difference between a clean-breaking wave and one that detonates all at once. While previously I had experienced the former, clean wave, I now found myself face-to-face with the latter.

Now cut back to me on the board, looking up at this big fellow. Fear didn’t creep slowly through my veins, all the sudden it was there. My heart was pumping hard and my body felt super alive and aware of the danger it could be in. My mind was racing, analyzing all the possible options and consequences for the present situation. For that moment, my life was simplified to three options: Do I ditch the board and try and swim under the wave? Do I turn around and try to ride it? Or do I face it head on?

After I had paddled in, shaken, but ok and safe, I sat down on the beach to go over what had just happened, and two things came to mind. The first was the nature of my fear and my reaction to it. It didn’t scare me to continuing surfing; it’s not like I got off the board and swore I would never surf again. Rather the opposite happened. It seemed to light a fire under me, to prepare myself better, so I’d never find myself in that situation again. The next time, I’ll be stronger and more capable, or better yet, I’ll be able to recognize the dangers of the situation. But I also realized that I would never be as scared again, as I was in that instant. From then on things wouldn’t be necessarily easier in those situations, but I would be more comfortable with that fear, and make more informed decisions. It reminded me of my first day standing in front of a Nicaraguan classroom, expected to say something yet not knowing really a word of Spanish. I froze and was almost hyper-ventilating. Since that fateful day, the classroom has unfazed me. Fear I think, is often associated too much in a negative light*. Fear of failure, fear of change, or fear of anything is a healthy part of life, and without it you can’t really grow as a person. If everything is always comfortable and easy, you’re not challenging yourself. You’re not living. To be clear, I’m not talking just about extreme-risk taking, such as bigger wave surfing or sky diving. I’m also referring to everyday things such as asking out a pretty girl on a date, trying a new pastime at the risk of embarrassing yourself in front of the masses, or moving to a new city. Static comfort, to steal a phrase from Mike Thomas, also means static growth. If you want to grow, you need to confront your fears head on, and hang out for the ensuing ride on.

The second realization was in the form of a quote I think is fitting in the situation: “Everyone has a plan, until they’re punched in the face.” Wise words from a not so wise man, Mike Tyson. You can tell yourself how you’ll react in a certain situations, but until they actually happen, you never know. Will it be fight or flight? There isn’t a universal answer for that question, as it depends on the situation. In my case, the correct answer was fight. Had I bailed to swim under the wave, it’s probable my leash may have snapped, as it was homemade from recycled plastic, and I would’ve been stuck in the impact zone, far from shore, without anything to keep me afloat. Had I tried to ride the wave, it would’ve crashed on top of me, ripping me from my board, and dragging me under for a long while. So I was left with paddling into, and attempting to duck dive the board under the wave, to avoid the bulk of the power of the wave. But like I said, it was a big fellow, and I still got pummeled and held under longer than was comfortable. But I walked away unscathed, now knowing how to better handle the situation.   

*Of course, in certain situations, especially when life threatening, fear most certainly is something negative.