The most infuriating things in life are the things that are annoying, but necessary.

Take politics. I would try to put my opinions on the Democratic and Republican Parties into words, but said words would probably be quite vulgar and my parents read this blog. On the other hand, history has shown us the alternatives to a democracy, and they aren’t pretty. Or medical treatment. Multiple times a year, we have to go to different doctors to have them examine our eyes, our teeth, our—OK, you get the point. But what’s the alternative? Going blind? Having three teeth in our heads? Rectal cancer?

Perhaps the first and foremost necessary evil? Fear.

I have a unique relationship with social anxiety. Performances and public speaking, I have almost no problem with. I’ve recited poems, sang, preached, and spoke to audiences with no problem–in fact, I’ve rather enjoyed the experiences. It’s experiences out of the spotlight that make me tense up. I went to prom with a good measure of reluctance and spent the entire time I was on the dance floor thinking, Don’t look stupid. Don’t look stupid. This day-to-day anxiety combines with that widespread millennial affliction known as FOMO, or Fear Of Missing Out. I sit on the sidelines, observing other people my age acting like socially-healthy 18-25-year-olds and think, I’d like that. My decision to apply for a semester abroad was, in fact, largely an attempt to combat some of this melting pot of “Dear God, I’m a freak of nature and I’m probably going to die alone”. I told myself I was already getting out of my comfort zone, so I could stand to tread some unfamiliar water.

This Past Weekend Me cursed that thought as he tried to not plunge to his death and/or severe ouchies.

Saturday, I went out to a beach in a city called Aviles. I say beach, but there were two: one big one that we ended the day at and a smaller, rockier one that we started the day at. In between those two, my group found a staircase that led down to a natural rock shelf. Next to that was a “””””””””path”””””””””””” that could be walked over to a pebble beach with a cave. My friends Tanner and Benji immediately beelined for the “”””””””path”””””””””. Me? I was a little more reluctant. I looked at the “””””””””””path””””””””””, then at the crashing water below it and the big, unforgiving rocks they were crashing against, the rocks I would land on were I to lose my footing. Finally, I took a deep breath. I came here to get out of my comfort zone, I thought and started the trek.

Oh, dear Lord, why did I do this?!?

The reason I have “”””””””path””””””””””””” in so many quotations is because it was less a path and more chunks eroded out of the rock that a person with good balance could use to walk to the pebble beach. Every chance glance anywhere but forward made the possibility of being shipped back to the States with my bones reduced to gravel seem more real. My legs turned to jelly when I dropped to the beach. Hyperventilating with relief, I walked over to the cave.

It was a half-circle, maybe 8 feet deep, and the other entrance led out into the ocean.

Are you [my parents read this blog]ing kidding me?

I took a few pictures and prepped myself for the climb back. Tanner noticed my apprehension and pointed out another path. It was less of a straight shot, but had vegetation and fewer death rocks. I [foolishly] agreed to take it.

It was only after we were past the point of no return that we realized our mistake. The “”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””path””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””” might have been carved out by lizards a few decades ago. The footing was just as treacherous as the way over, if not more so, and the vegetation I thought would serve as an anchor/safety net was thorny and unforgiving. With much struggle, me and Tanner made our way up the cliff. The top of the cliff was getting closer and closer. And then a problem arose.

What would have been my ticket out of needing a new pair of pants sloped into a near-vertical cliff. Tanner tried and failed to climb it. He slid back down to me and pointed out another way: another lizard-forged path straight through the thornbushes below us that we could make our way through that led to a lower cliff. I preemptively said goodbye to my future children and lowered myself into the bushes.

Several minutes, several mental cries for my mother, and one boost later, me and Tanner stood at the top of the cliff, admiring the view. Tanner asked one of those classically American “how you doing, dude?” type questions. I took that opportunity to launch into an anecdote I’d read in the book Wild at Heart, about a Southern judge who sailed as a hobby and considered his near-death in a tropical storm to be the highlight of his life. I concluded, “Someday, this may be my crazy almost-died-but-it-was-great story.” I paused to steady my shaking legs and then added, “But not today!”

So what to draw from this experience? Fear, at its base, is like a gun–while it’s meant for self-preservation, too easily and too often it can be perverted, being corrupted into anxiety, paranoia, or even clinical disorders like depression or a phobia. At the end of the day, the only things you can do are let the fear stay or turn and fight. As the old saying goes, “there’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”

El Hombre Que Casi Un Ataque Al Corazón, 

Noah