I can do hard things.

Part of that is because I’m stubborn. Part of it is I’m my parents’ daughter.

But I can do hard things. I can do things even when my hands are shaking, and I’m terrified. And some point, the pushing through the fear becomes inevitable, because there’s absolutely no way in hell I’m letting fear win.

This week, I had my routine, yearly mammogram. (All good!) I realized, sitting there in that decidedly salmon-colored gown, that I was more nervous than I usually am.

The mammograms themselves are fine. Some weird contorting, a bit of pressure, and boom, you’re done. It barely takes any time at all, and the place I go is really lovely. The techs are always great.

“You don’t look old enough to even need a mammogram.”

***preens*** The best ice breaker, possible, honestly. Because it caught me off guard. And the chatter throughout was kind and disarming.

But even though I know it didn’t show, I was nervous as hell. And I couldn’t exactly figure out why. I just felt like I wanted to run, ya know?

And then it dawned on me, slowly: I’m the same age my mother was when her original cancer was diagnosed. And the weight of that was hanging over my head, like it was some kind of age-based prophecy, and damn it all, I was scared.

(Did I show this? I did my damn best not to. For myriad reasons.)

To the appointment, I always wear my best red lipstick. (Besame’s Red Velvet lipstick. Yes, the exact one Peggy Carter one, thank you very much.) This time, I’d brought my friend Deanna Raybourn’s new book, A Ghastly Catastrophe. I wore an outfit I loved. I winged my eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass.

It’s the armor, sometimes, that sees us through. It’s the armor and the talismans we forge for ourselves. The rituals and the rewards.

But sometimes, there’s simply no protection against the fear. There’s not barrier to keep it at bay, to manage the heart’s reaction when logic has fled the building. Sometimes, things just loom.

But, like I said, I can do hard things. And I did. And now I get to breathe easier, until next year, when I do it all again.

I want you to know this, though: do things scared. Do things terrified and unsure and possibly unhinged. Do things when you don’t feel ready. Do things when you don’t feel like you’ve got it all figured out. Do things when you’re hands are shaking and your heart is trying to beat its way out of your chest.

Do not wait to try. To reach out. To create. To…well, do anything important, really. Don’t think you have to be or feel ready.

Because that’s bullshit. No one really feels ready. Excited, yes. Ready? Not likely. But it’s the best things that happen to you when you’re wondering what if.

And consider this your friendly reminder to schedule your squish! If you’ve never had one before and have questions, you can reply to this, and I’ll get the email.

Until next time, darlings,

XOXO