That was the title of the short story I had published in my high school’s artistic journal.  (For lack of a better description – it not only included writing but artwork and even a song or two on those flimsy pullout 45s.)  (If you do not know what a 45 is, you are too young to be reading here.)
 
My grandmother loved it because it included the cabin.  I don’t think to this day any family member has really put it together that the physical abuse the heroine ran away from mirrored the emotional abuse I had experienced.
 
Despite the fact that I dearly wish to never see any of those men again, facing my fears sort of became a mantra for me.  And since I’m a huge scaredy cat, it also was basically a full-time job.
 
The summer between my sophomore and junior year of college is when I remember making the most conscious effort.  I was living with a great aunt, pretty much a complete stranger, who by the end of the summer I would watch die from a stroke.  It was the first time in my life I had to drive on a regular basis.  I found a hopkido dojo so I could return to the jujitsu class at college and not flinch when I stepped on the mat.
 
Not a fear exactly, but that summer was the first time I ever ran a mile.  Before that, I just felt I couldn’t do it.  I decided that wasn’t a good enough reason not to try.  My aunt lived a half block from A-1-A and it was a beautiful view. 
 
I was proud of myself, every step.  But also embarrassed of my pride.  Other people managed to do all the things I was doing without pats on the back.  It was just life.  I should suck it up.
 
I remember that summer being so exhausting.  And I was always on edge.  Like once I started in on this fear challenge, I had to immerse myself in the unfamiliar.  Everything was foreign and I was changing so much that even calls from friends weren’t comforting or routine.  It felt like nothing would ever be the same again.  And I guess, in a way, it wasn’t.
 
This came to mind because I feel like I’m entering the same sort of pattern these days.  Except of course after you’ve conquered X number of fears, all that are left are the really big ones.  Like being unemployed.  Like following your heart and not your head.
 
And let me just say, it’s a fine line between deciding these are fears to be reckoned with and understanding that some fears are in place just to keep you from being stupid.