A Proper Analogy

It took several months and many poor comparisons, but I finally came up with an analogy of my fear-a prior experience in my life whose emotions run eerily similar to now. I played little league for only one year. Platooning in right field and third base, I was known for my chatter over athletic attributes. My fielding was poor and hitting was worse. The prospect of the ball beaning me scared me speechless. The fear drove me to jump out of the batter’s box no matter how far off the plate the ball was on the other side. Before coming to the plate, I would be confident that I would be hit. In the on deck circle, I was near tears at the prospect of the at bat. I would beg my coach to take me out of the game before something terrible happened.

I never got over the fear. My team, the cubs, won only two games and was demolished in the first game of the playoffs. I would not take another competitive swing until intramurals in college. Come to think of it, I did not take too many swings in little league.

Today, I face the same terror during daily activities. As sure as I was that I would be struck by the ball, I am positive I will have a spell while showering, driving, walking or being alone. It is confidence of failure, certainty of pain. I am not living in the field of competition, but am shrinking from the challenge.

In the end, I was never seriously hit. I escaped without a major bruise and .000 batting average. A month and a half since my last spell should give me strength. Saturday, I climbed all over the Scottrade center with no problems. Yet, the idea of showing without someone in the house frightens me to the core.