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When someone asks, “How would you describe yourself?” they’re usually looking for a positive response that highlights your personal strengths. But, sometimes, I feel as if I can only honestly characterize myself in one way: I am afraid. “Afraid of what?” you might ask. Do you mean like afraid of heights or afraid of spiders? Well, I am afraid of those things or was at one point, but that’s not exactly what I am referring to. I just mean that is my nature: to be afraid.
But my family remembers a very different kind of person when I was younger. My parents always tell me about how I was unafraid to speak my mind. I told it like it was, not bothering to spare any feelings. According to many people in my family – the victims, I like to call them - I had an uncanny knack for telling people exactly what they didn’t want to hear but what was absolutely necessary to hear. You know that show “Kids Say the Darndest Things”? Well, I was like that up until I was about ten years old. Sometimes I feel like Cassandra, a prophetess from Greek mythology that was doomed to be disbelieved, in the sense that I have a deep understanding of others, sometimes even when these people would much rather reject the truth. Words like “brutally honest” were used to describe my behavior. I can’t say exactly what happened to change that because it’s not as if there was one moment when I just decided to stop doing that. The transition was much more subtle and my inward retreat proved very detrimental.
See, I have developed this nonsensical complex when it comes to the things that I love, like soccer and English. I am afraid to make mistakes. I am afraid of everyone watching me fail. It’s silly because when other people fail, I don’t think badly of them so why should they think that of me. What’s worse is that I’m actually good at these things, so it doesn’t make any sense for me to feel as frightened as I do. Yet I retreat into my little shell where it is nice and safe and nobody can see my mistakes. Except, in doing this, I’ve made the biggest mistake of all because I haven’t even bothered to try.
Take my culture for instance. Both my parents are Peruvian so the first language I learned to speak was Spanish. In fact, I didn’t even know how to speak English going into kindergarten. Thankfully, I was able to learn the language very quickly. But now I’m afraid to speak Spanish with my family because I don’t want to mess up. My brothers grew up speaking English, so I just sort of adopted it. And since I didn’t speak Spanish anymore it became hard to start again. If I ever do speak to my family members, I trip over my tenses, make-up words that don’t exist, or else have to speak using an awkward half-English half-Spanish mix. I’m afraid of speaking to my relatives because I don’t want to make mistakes. And this is perfectly absurd because there they are with their thick accents trying to speak English, and it’s almost impossible to understand them, but I don’t think any less of them.
Incidentally, this fear has taken away a lot of opportunity for me to become closer to my heritage. For instance, I always feel uncomfortable at family reunions, except with a particular group of family members. I can see it now. I’m sitting there at the make-shift dinner table - it takes multiple, long plastic collapsible tables to seat my family and even then people are hanging around the edges – and everyone around me is listening to a story that my aunt it telling in Spanish. They’ve all heard the story before but everyone is waiting expectantly for the punchline and then suddenly 30 people burst out laughing. Of course, I got the joke, but all I can do is chuckle and fix this fake smile on my lips. It’s an odd sensation. It’s like I’m window shopping; I can look but I don’t want to participate in any of the . I hear the language and know it’s mine but I can never get past the invisible barrier to actually speak to them. In fact, the only thing that makes me feel like I belong to this group of people is the food. Now, this is something that I can partake in. I think it’s because it requires no communication, just an understanding of how the flavors of my culture work. I love making causa with my parents. I can taste potato in my mouth, flavored with aji amarillo, lemon, and a little bit of salt. My parents have deemed me an expert at cooking this dish and every time I make it, I feel this incredible sense of pride about being Peruvian. My mom and dad always brag about how my causa is a masterpiece, and I can’t help but feel happy for a moment. But at the same time, it makes me sad because I used to be part of so much more. My dad always tells me stories about how I used to spend hours in front of the TV dancing and singing like Selena. Why can’t I do that now? It’s the same way with soccer: there are things that I used to be able to do that I can’t now.
For those of you who don’t know, I began playing soccer when I was four years old. The reason I loved soccer when I was younger was because of the foot skills involved. Doing moves was the one part of the game that gave me more joy than anything else. I still do some of them now, but I don’t even remember the last time I tried a move that I didn’t already know how to do. It was easier when I was younger because none of the other girls knew how to do these skills. Also, I had the advantage of having a father who played professionally on a couple of teams. He still plays once or twice a week in Westport with a group that is affectionately known in my house as the “old-timers.” I love when he comes back home from a game and the first thing he says, without fail, every single time is “I creamed the old-timers.” This is coming from a fifty-three year old man. And then he begins to tell these illustrious stories about how he nutmegged someone, which is when you pass the ball between someone’s legs. He still works on doing new moves and might fail a bunch of times before he gets it, but when he does master a move, it’s a glorious moment. He doesn’t mind the mistakes because they teach him how to do the move better than anything else could. I used to be like that, but I’m not anymore. I’m stuck. For some reason, I’m terrified that I will mess up. Ever since I started feeling this way, I’ve stopped doing moves. It’s ironic because I think the one piece of advice that I’ve heard more than anything else from coaches is “be more selfish, take the players one on one.” In other words, people always tell me that I should dribble the ball by myself, but it’s always been difficult for me to be in the spotlight because I don’t want to make a mistake.
This problem even extends to situations at school. For example, we all know that participation is a big part of our classes, particularly English and history, but few people are truly comfortable with the whole system. How many of us are truly prepared to go out on a limb and say exactly how we interpreted a text? I’ve personally always had trouble talking about the books we read in class because I feel that if someone contradicts me, he or she is rejecting my perspective and therefore my character. Sure it’s called a “discussion” but how many times has your opinion been changed by something your peer says? Too often we are self-absorbed and think that our own thoughts are the ultimate truth. We are reluctant to listen to what anyone else says unless it’s by an authority figure like a teacher. This feeling is only natural and that’s why it takes a lot of courage to throw your ideas into the vat of human thought. But think about what you can add. Your own voice would resonate just as strongly as anyone else’s and you don’t have to wonder how things might have turned out if only you had just mustered up the nerve to say something.
I guess the question people have to ask themselves eventually is if they really want their fears to rule their lives. I don’t. So I am slowly but surely making my way to a place where I can be comfortable with how other people view me because no matter how many people scrutinize my actions, I’m the final judge and I want to be happy with whatever I put forth in the world. Nobody cares how many times you fall down or how many times you make mistakes. That may seem like cliché advice but it’s true. Everyone is too busy worrying about their own lives and they’re not thinking about how you tripped over your words in that speech in front of the whole school or missed the goal when there was a wide-open net. You pick yourself up and move on because there is no other choice unless you want to be frozen with fear for the rest of your life.
And, yes, I am going to be one of those people who end with a quote. Because if you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll listen to someone else with a little bit more credit to their name. Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Fear defeats more people than any other one thing in the world.” That’s a bold statement to make, but I happen to agree. Think about it. Fear usually leads to inaction. If you don’t even make a beginning, you’ve already failed. And what’s worse is that your failure was self-inflicted. You didn’t even give someone else the chance to fail you because you already did it yourself.
I’m not saying that I’ve learned the secret to gaining confidence or dispelling fears (and if anyone does have that answer, I’d really like to know). I’ve just come to understand that there’s a path to getting there. Take it one step at a time. It may be a slow process but at least you’re still moving forward. And, finally, to those who think it’s not possible to get rid of your fears all I can say is, I’m up here, aren’t I?