Facing a Fear, Notebook in Hand

As you've likely gathered by now, I'm not a controversial kinda gal. My blog posts don't fan the fiery flames of heated debate nor do they take on taboo subjects or express my "stand" on "the issues". Some of this is due to the fact that I'm pretty simple..ha! The other part of it is: I fear conflict of any sort.

I would much rather bitch about my gripes, or gripe about my bitches, to my hubby or anyone other than the person it's actually directed at. I am so awesome at telling someone off, just so long as I'm not actually telling the someone. But today, I had to face down my fear. I had to openly confront someone about an issue that's been plaguing myself and our family for far too long. I had to take a stand. I had to be honest, even if it meant an argument. Even if it meant the person not liking me (gasp).

It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. I knew this day was coming and when I was finally "called out", there was no backing down. I agonized, I lost sleep, I wrote about it and I even wrote out my "speech".

I thought to myself, "Self, you need some notes. Go in prepared. You won't get a second chance." And I went searching for a notebook, some paper, anything I could take in with me as the rifle for my ammunition, or the other way around. Or maybe it's the bag that holds the rifle that's loaded with ammunition. Meh...

Do you remember my post about The Notebook? Well, back in October, hubby bought me a beautiful bright fushia, leather-bound notebook at an exclusive shop in London. It's so beautiful both physically and as the symbol of his support of my writing. It has sat, carefully wrapped in its original packaging, untouched. I couldn't bring myself to soil its gilded pages.

Nothing I could ever write seemed good enough for this notebook.

Until today. Today, I didn't hesitate. The fact that I couldn't for the life of me find anything to write on was a sign. Finally, I had something worth writing and committing for all eternity to those featherweight pages.

The Notebook came in with me. It sat next to me. And although I barely glanced at it, it gave me courage and strength to say what needed to be said and to do what needed to be done, regardless of the consequences.

And I didn't cry. I came close but I didn't cry.

I managed to express myself clearly and I think, I might have won this battle. But even if time proves that I didn't, I conquered my fear of confrontation and my fear of The Notebook.

Today was a good day. Last night was a haze of red wine and excess carbs. More on that later..