today, my friends forced me out of my lane, into another car, and said “turn the key!”
i said i was scared. i said i didn’t care. i said i didn’t want to. they said, ‘eff your comfort zone. do. it. now.’
even the friend who i thought would tell me that Jesus would say no, told me to have fun and live a little.
so i did. peer pressure ftw*.
“doesn’t that feel good?!?” they inquired.
no. no it does not. it feels like exactly why i am comfortable in my lane and refuse(d) to move: i don’t know what to do. i don’t know how this lane curves or how to navigate the bumps in the road. there’s a reason why people say ‘stay in your lane.’
i’m good at my lane. i may fail at this one. the perfectionist in me cries out. she orders me to stop! retract! cancel email, stop now! stay where you know you can succeed.
but if i do that, am i really living? if i refuse to take the chance because i might fail, will i ever experience the great joys of life? if i never leave the one lane that’s proven, how will i know what else i can do? and what’s failure but instruction for a new direction?
i could have failed at Spelman. could have bombed at any point (and every point) in law school. i’m pretty sure i’m near failing in my career. and yet, i’ll take chances with those.
for the Christian in me: that boat is easy to step out of, that water is familiar to me if i choose to walk on it.
but this? this new lane – hell, new track? it feels like putting a baby who just held a tonka truck on a nascar track into the driver’s seat of dale earnheardt jr.’s car.
i’m gripping the wheel with both hands, and squinting out of one eye. this new lane is exhilarating, terrifying, and so full of faith.
but if i fail, if my car crashes – i’m blaming my friends.