By Amy Keyes 
Years ago, I bought a shirt that read, “Do it scared.”
I am a strong believer in mantras and trying to shift my mindset through self-talk. And I’m also, very often, someone who can let my anxiety get the better of me.
So, when I saw this cute V-neck in the sale bin of an overpriced boutique, I took it as a sign that it was meant for me.
Truth be told, I haven’t put that shirt on in years.
Maybe because it’s shoved somewhere in the depths of my overstuffed closet, but far more likely because I am also a big believer in only rocking the things I feel authentic in.
Like, when I used to run marathons, I would never put on the shirt before I finished the race. I had to earn it.
Or like talking myself out of the Red Rocks T-shirt I wanted to purchase, because I’ve never actually been to a show there.
You get the gist.
I need to walk the walk and talk the talk to feel like I really can earn the right to rock the mantra.
And doing things scared hasn’t been a mantra I’ve been good at.
I’ve spent a lot of time in my adult years just being scared.
I look back on so many moments, big and small, and wonder how that fear had impacted my kids, my husband, and mostly my own joy in life.
I think back to when my kids were little, and inventory all of it: my worry about them climbing too high, being too close to the edge, or swimming out too far.
And though they are both adventurous and brave, I wonder how it impacted the young men they are now. I wonder how it shapes the way they view me. I wonder how much I missed out on as they discovered themselves because I was too focused on the fear and not their freedom to discover.
It wasn’t always this way for me—I wasn’t always scared.
I feel like I lived a whole lifetime before having kids that was filled with adventure. I look back at some of the things I’ve experienced and sometimes don’t even recognize the person I was. And I find myself searching for those pieces of myself again.
We recently took a trip to Colorado, undoubtedly one of the most beautiful places in the country. And for me, one of the places that holds a magical dichotomy of freedom and also fear in my soul.
Before we left, my husband signed us up for a white water rafting trip. The pitch on the website showcased words like “thrilling, adrenaline boosting, adventurous.”
These are not typically words I actively seek out in my vacation choices, so needless to say, the days leading up to it were full of trepidation and anxiety overdrive.
Normally, this would be the type of activity I’d sit on the sideline during. Wait for my boys while going for a run or walk around a cute Main Street in whatever town was close by. Being worried about them until they made it safely back, but not doing it scared myself.
But something inside me decided not to sit this one out.
Maybe it’s because my kids are getting older and I want them to see me as a partner in their adventures rather than an obstacle to them.
Maybe it’s because my husband and I are getting older, and we might not always have the capacity for adventures like these.
Maybe it’s because I know deep down, I’ve sat out of too many adventures already and don’t want to regret any more.
Even though I was scared, I decided to do it anyway.
And I loved it.
More than just the adventure itself, I loved rediscovering the sense of confidence and self-assurance that seems to get buried under the weight of fear so often in my life.
So I am committing to doing it scared again and again. Whatever it is.
Because doing it scared is way better than not doing it at all.
And now, if I can find that shirt that’s hiding somewhere in my closet, I feel like I’ve earned the chance to wear it.
by Pri Walker 
by Ashley Stevens 
