It’s five-thirty in the evening, and I’ve hijacked the porch of my friends Bonnie and Todd. We have a dance lesson in an hour, so I showed up early to chill out. (I don’t know where they are, but they said to make myself welcome.) I’ve spent the day being a grown up (boo hiss), scheduling an appointment with an allergist next week, making copies of my blood work for the doctor, paying bills (ick), and writing a blog post for a client. For most of the day, I’ve been nervous, which happens a lot when I have things “to do.” This is a real irony in my life. I don’t function well without a to-do list yet get anxious when I have one.

This is me AFTER four years of therapy.

I don’t remember feeling this way when I was younger. As a teenager I got up early every day during the summer to work as a camp counselor. I interacted with people–with children. In college I worked in a law office–answered the phone, made copies, handled finances. Maybe I was repressed, but I really don’t recall being so on-edge about everyday activities. Of course, I did nearly shit my pants when the attorney I worked for asked me to drive his standard pickup truck across town. Because back then I didn’t know how to drive a standard.

And I agreed to do it anyway.

Talk about being a people pleaser. There I was, maybe nineteen, willing to risk my life and the life of everyone on Rogers Avenue in Fort Smith because I was too afraid to admit I didn’t know something. What the hell, Younger Marcus? Thankfully, at some point, after stalling out several times in the middle of traffic, I did speak up. “Um, sir, I honestly don’t feel comfortable with a stick shift.” And it was that easy. “That’s okay,” he said, “nothing to worry about. You can take the other car next time.”

Looking back, I really have had some great employers and mentors. Lately I get all twitterpated around matters of business and adult responsibilities, but I’ve truly been encouraged my entire life. Like, I’ve never had a boss yell at me or bitch. I’ve had jobs that didn’t work out, but I’ve never been fired, never been told, “You let me down.” Well, there was that one time in high school when a friend of mine and I got carried away during a roast. Turns out you can’t insinuate that someone at a Christian school is gay or sleeping around. (People cry.) That was one of the worst nights of my life. I felt bad about it for a decade or more. (Guilt should have an expiration date.) Several teachers pulled us aside and said, “We’re so disappointed in you.”

Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of, disappointing someone. Granted, I’m not technically under anyone’s authority at this point in my life, but it’s hard to grow up in the Christian faith and not feel like SOMEONE’S looking over your shoulder at all times. I realize I’m about to touch on a sensitive subject, but there’s a lot of fear in faith, at least the faith I grew up in. There were all these rules to follow, literally hell to pay if you didn’t get it right the first time. (By first time, I mean this lifetime).

I think I’ve come a long way in this regard. I’m not afraid of God or the universe as I see them. I don’t think I’m going to burn for all eternity because I kiss boys or eat a piece of catfish. I just don’t. And yet I still have this leftover fear or anxiety about life in general. It’s that other shoe dropping thing, like something bad is going to happen. Like I’m going to be handed the keys to a car I’m not ready to drive. I’m so afraid of stalling out on life’s highway. So many days it feels like I already have stalled out. Me stuck on the side of the road, the rest of life whizzing by me. Whoosh!

I’m a nervous “wreck.”

In my calmer moments, I realize things are just fine. Having been pulled over on the side of the road for the last year or so, it’s natural for me to feel nervous about getting back on the road. I think that’s part of what’s happening lately. Life is starting to pick up. Opportunities are coming my way, and part of me isn’t sure I can handle them. So I have to take a deep breath, remind myself that I’ve always risen to the occasion before. Twenty years later, I can drive a stick shift. I’m careful about what I say about others AND I know when people are overreacting. (Some of those jokes would have KILLED with a different audience.) More than anything else, I know that I can’t beat myself up for things I don’t know or am still learning. I have to give myself some grace. In terms of my life right now, I’m in uncharted territory. It’s okay to feel nervous, to have butterflies as I figure things out.

And I will figure things out. I will get back on the road. I’m sure of it. Just as I’m sure there’s no god or universe judging me for where I am or how fast I’m getting “there.” For surely there is no “there” to get to. Either we’re loved and accepted as we are right here, right now (nervous, broken down on the side of the road, whatever), or we’re not loved and accepted at all. Isn’t that what unconditional love is–love without conditions? Personally, I believe this is how life loves us, so I’m working on loving myself this way, loving others this way, embracing all that is, as it is.