The short journey from fearless to fearful
I was fearless once upon a time.
When my mother took me to school for my first day, I walked off and left her and strode into the building without turning round. My mother told me she was surrounded by other women comforting their weeping boys. She was the one who wept as she watched me head off with no backward glance.
She had taught me to read and I walked into school confident and excited about learning. I was also an only child and was thrilled at the prospect of finding friends.
This is not how I approach networking opportunities today. It has not been how I approach social occasions since I was, well, five years old, I guess.
Where did the fear come from? School? My parents? Some inner mix of DNA and mental disturbance?
I suspect a combination of all of the above. School, which I had longed to attend, probably did its best to make conditions perfect for the other pernicious influences to work at full strength.
The other side of fear is ego, of course. This is the fear that manifests itself in children — and some adults — as shyness. It’s about believing everyone is interested in you. That what you say and do are of crucial importance to everyone in the vicinity.
It’s taken me too many years to discover that this is not true.
But it may be too late to be fearless again.
