I recently dreamt that I was throwing out the first pitch at a Major League Baseball game. And I was scared to death.
Although I had impaired vision and couldn’t see the catcher, that wasn’t what terrified me. The fact that I had no idea what I was doing and the lack of strength and power to get the ball over the plate did not concern me. The fact that so many people were watching did. I could not see them but I heard and I felt them. Their massive energy was all focused on me and I began to shake. All these people were looking at me, waiting for me to fail. I stood on the pitcher’s mound, knees knocking, body trembling, yet feeling paralyzed.
I woke up before I made the throw and after my heart slowed, I was irritated with myself. Why did I care so much what other people thought and why did I assume they were hoping that I blew it? What if I had believed the crowd to be cheering me on instead of jeering me on? Would I have been able to stand on the rubber, relaxed, fully enjoying the moment?
I think that some people are born with the Rhett Butler attitude that they don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. Others are taught it by their parents. But what if we reach adulthood never having learned it? Can we work to adopt the philosophy? And, can we only be successful if we don’t worry about other’s opinions of us?
I have always landed in the middle on the Butler Scale, sans my teenage years, of course, when the voice in our head usually belongs to another. But with age and experience I cared less and less. The Grand Slam that took place between 2012 and 2014: my mom’s death, my vision loss, my husband’s cardiac battle and the sudden death of my father-in-law during a medical procedure drove home what real fear looks like and that the only people you should ever be worried about are your loved ones in crisis.
I still get it wrong though and not just in my dreams. But I will continue to do better. Because I really do give a damn about not giving a damn.