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As a French major in college, I had the opportunity to work as a 1)nanny for a wealthy French family. I don’t remember the details exactly, but I do remember that they lived in what seemed like a 2)palatial townhouse in Manhattan, had several homes in Europe, and planned to spend the summer traveling, child and nanny in tow. Whatever the challenges of accompanying this particular family might have been, the chance to travel widely throughout Europe was not only exciting but also unavailable to me any other way at the time. Plus I 3)adored kids, and was planning on teaching. It seemed a great fit. Yet I was afraid to take the job; afraid the family wouldn’t like me; afraid I would be lonely; afraid I wouldn’t be able to care for the child well; afraid I’d miss my boyfriend and my family. So I stayed home that summer, living in my parents’ house and working in an office at a perfectly nice, 4)decently paying, perfectly boring job. To keep myself 5)amused, I read novels set in Paris and Venice, wondering what it would be like to go there. Time after time in the years that followed, various opportunities shined on me, lighting the way to potential adventure, but my fear 6)stretched out before me like a shadow, dimming the prospects.
The strange thing is, if I were thrown into a situation in which there might actually be something to be afraid of—a sinking canoe, to choose a random example, or a building fire—I know that I would deal with it well, not lose my head or become 7)paralyzed with anxiety but take care of business, be effective in the moment. I’ve handled things that prompted people to say, “That must have been incredibly scary,” though I didn’t feel 8)overwhelmingly afraid at all. What, then, is the nature of my fear? If I had to give it a name, I would call it “What if...”, because it derives all its power from the possibilities of what might happen at some point in the future and not what’s happening right now.
I can see how “What if...” might have been more useful a long time ago. In fact, I remember considering the idea of sliding down a 9)banister in the house where I grew up—I must’ve been around three, because the banister seemed very high off the ground—and thinking, “Fun! Long ride! Fast! New!”Then, “But what if when I get to the bottom, I fall off the end?” I certainly would have done had I followed through, with painful and 10)injurious results.
The trouble is that somehow as I matured, asking “What if...” became a way of introducing every possible disaster that could happen, no matter how unlikely. Falling off the end became, in my mind, a probable result even when it wasn’t. And thinking about that, I began to want to avoid asking the question because it 11)evoked too much anxiety. So I sought the comfortable and the familiar rather than the exciting and the 12)exotic. It was easy, it was even joyful and delightful (as the comfortable and familiar can be), but it was rarely challenging in a way that leads you to live your life to its fullest. A while back, I was offered a job. Supported 13)contentedly by my freelance writing work, very cozily ensconced in my flexible schedule, I didn’t think I’d be interested in a full-time position that would require me to show up at an office every day. But: I was an avid reader of the magazine where the position was available; I had deeply admired the talent and the integrity of the staff; and the job required that I learn about a field—the beauty industry—about which I knew very little. A job full of positives and yet I was afraid to take it; afraid that the staff wouldn’t like me; afraid I would be lonely; afraid I wouldn’t be able to do the job well, afraid I’d miss the ease and familiarity of my 14)freelance life. I recognized it as the same fear I’d felt more than 50 years ago, playing out in a different way. When I thought of the possibilities that might come with the job—Fun! A long ride! Fast-paced! New!—my heart leapt. But of course, then: “What if...?” The leaping feeling turned to 15)pounding. This time, through the racket, I simply said, “Yes, I’ll do it.” It finally seemed more painful not to take the risk than to take it. And if I fell off the end? I’m a big girl now; I thought I could handle it. I imagined my fear as a scrim fluttering between the unknown and myself. I would try walking through it.
On my first day at the office (after a sleepless night), I expressed my anxiety to one of my new colleagues. “I’m really scared I’m not going to be able to do this job,” I told her. “I feel as if I don’t know anything about anything.”
“And if you can’t do it?” she said.
Then, I said, “I guess I’ll 16)slink out of here in shame.” She seemed to understand the depth of my unease without making me feel that it was 17)justified. Then she 18)patted me on the arm. “It’s always good to have a plan,”she said.
When I 19)submitted my first shot at a photo caption (just a caption!), it was quickly returned to me with 20)“cliché” scrawled across the top of the page. Yikes! I had my plan, of course. But slink out in shame? I didn’t think so, and at least not without another try. And—damn—another! Finally: “perfect”. In 30 years, I’ve never had a job I’ve enjoyed more, that has pushed me more or offered such rich opportunities. The possibilities I thought might materialize are even more interesting, more exciting than I’d ever imagined. I’m still 21)butting up against fear at almost every turn. But now, when it feels right, to the 22)din of my pounding heart, I walk through it. 当我还在大学修读法语专业时，曾有机会在一个富有的法国家庭里当保姆。我不记得具体的细节，但我准确记得他们住在曼哈顿一所看起来像宫殿般富丽堂皇的联排别墅中，在欧洲有几套房子，还计划在暑期拖着孩子和保姆一起去旅游。无论陪伴这个特别的家庭会有什么样的挑战，但广游欧洲的机会不仅令人激动不已，在那时对我来说更是可遇不可求。而且我喜欢小孩子，也计划着从事教学工作。这似乎是一个很好的契机。然而我十分害怕接受这份工作；害怕这个家庭会不喜欢我；害怕自己会孤单；害怕我不能给孩子很好的照顾；害怕我会想念男友和家人。所以那个夏天我留了在家，住在父母家里，在办公室上班，领着一份还不错、体面的薪水，做着相当无趣乏味的工作。为了自娱自乐，我阅读以巴黎和威尼斯为背景的小说，想象着如果我去了那里会是怎样。在之后的几年里，各种机会向我投射光芒，照亮通往不可预测的冒险之路，但我的恐惧就像一个幽灵在我面前张牙舞爪，黯淡了前程。
奇怪的是，如果我陷入某个理应害怕的情境之中——一艘下沉的划艇，随意举个例子，或者一场大厦火灾——我知道自己会应付自如，不会惊慌失措或因焦虑而呆滞，而是处理好事情，当场变得有效率。我处理过这样的事情，引得众人纷说，“那肯定非常地吓人，”我压根没觉得那么可怕。那么，我的恐惧的本质是什么呢？如果非要我给个名字，我会称之为“万一……”难题，因为其对我的冲击力来自于在将来某个时刻可能会发生某些事情的可能性，而非现在出现的状况。
“万一……”难题也许在很久以前会更为有效，我现在懂了。实际上，我记得，在我长大的那个房子里，我就想过从楼梯的扶栏上往下滑——我大概三岁，因为那个扶栏似乎离地面很高——想着：“真有趣！这么长的滑行！快速！新奇！”然后，“但万一滑到了底端，最后跌下来呢？”如果我坚持到底的话，我肯定就照滑不误的，只不过最后要熬疼、受伤而已。
令人困扰的是，随着我日渐成熟，提出“万一……”这样的问题会成为一种思维模式，在脑中浮现每一种可能发生的灾难，无论是多么不可能的灾难。就算大局已定，在我的脑海里，还是会生成一个可能“最后会跌倒”的结果。考虑到这些，我开始刻意地避免提出这个问题，因为它诱发太多的焦虑。所以我追求舒适和亲近，而非刺激和独特。这很简单，甚至令人喜悦和愉快（舒适和亲近本就能够带来的），但这并不是一条具有挑战性的、能指引你通往充实生活的道路。
不久之前，有一份工作向我招手。我一直干着自由撰稿人的工作，这足以让我过得很滋润，而且非常配合我的弹性时间表，所以我以前从不觉得我会对要我每天按时在办公室出现的全职工作感兴趣。然而，向我招手的这本杂志正是我爱读的；我非常欣赏该杂志员工的才能和真诚；还有，这份工作要求我了解一个领域——美容产业——而对于这个领域我所知甚少。一份不乏好处的工作，然而我还是害怕接受它；害怕员工们会不喜欢我；害怕自己会孤单；害怕我不能胜任这份工作，害怕自己会想念安逸的日子以及我对于自由工作的那份亲切感。我承认这和五十多年前我感觉到的恐惧是一样的，只是表现方式不同。当我想到随这份工作而来的种种可能性时——真有趣！这么长的旅程！快节奏！新奇！——我的心怦怦直跳。当然，之后便是：“万一……？”心跳变成了重击。这次，透过嘈杂声，我只是简单回答：“是的，我接受。”似乎不接受这个冒险会比接受来得更痛苦。如果我最后跌倒在地呢？我已是一个成熟的女人；我想我会处理得很好。我把我的恐惧想象成一帘薄纱，它在已知的我和未知的我之间飘舞着。我会努力跨过这帘薄纱。
我上班的第一天（经过了一个不眠之夜），我向一个新同事表达了我的焦虑。“我真的很担心自己不能胜任这份工作，”我告诉她。“我感觉自己对什么事都一无所知。”
“万一你真的胜任不了呢？”她说道。
然后，我说：“我想我会羞愧地偷偷溜走。”她似乎理解我深深的不安，却没让我觉得感到不安是理所当然的。接着她拍拍我的手臂。“有计划总是好的，”她说道。
第一次上交对新闻图片撰写的配图文字（对，只是配图文字而已）后，马上就给打回头了，页面上端潦草地写着“陈词滥调”的评语。呀！当然，我有自己的计划。但是羞愧地偷偷溜走？我想我不会这么做的，至少在进行第二次尝试之前不会。然后——该死的——又一次！直到最后：（评语是）“完美”。30年以来，从没有一份工作让我这样享受过，这样推动我前进，或者这样给予我多种多样的机会。那种种我认为最终会成为现实的可能性，反而更加有趣，比我想象中更使人兴奋。每次面临抉择，我还总是和心中的恐惧作斗争。但是现在，只要感觉对了，面对巨响心跳，我从容走过。
The strange thing is, if I were thrown into a situation in which there might actually be something to be afraid of—a sinking canoe, to choose a random example, or a building fire—I know that I would deal with it well, not lose my head or become 7)paralyzed with anxiety but take care of business, be effective in the moment. I’ve handled things that prompted people to say, “That must have been incredibly scary,” though I didn’t feel 8)overwhelmingly afraid at all. What, then, is the nature of my fear? If I had to give it a name, I would call it “What if...”, because it derives all its power from the possibilities of what might happen at some point in the future and not what’s happening right now.
I can see how “What if...” might have been more useful a long time ago. In fact, I remember considering the idea of sliding down a 9)banister in the house where I grew up—I must’ve been around three, because the banister seemed very high off the ground—and thinking, “Fun! Long ride! Fast! New!”Then, “But what if when I get to the bottom, I fall off the end?” I certainly would have done had I followed through, with painful and 10)injurious results.
The trouble is that somehow as I matured, asking “What if...” became a way of introducing every possible disaster that could happen, no matter how unlikely. Falling off the end became, in my mind, a probable result even when it wasn’t. And thinking about that, I began to want to avoid asking the question because it 11)evoked too much anxiety. So I sought the comfortable and the familiar rather than the exciting and the 12)exotic. It was easy, it was even joyful and delightful (as the comfortable and familiar can be), but it was rarely challenging in a way that leads you to live your life to its fullest. A while back, I was offered a job. Supported 13)contentedly by my freelance writing work, very cozily ensconced in my flexible schedule, I didn’t think I’d be interested in a full-time position that would require me to show up at an office every day. But: I was an avid reader of the magazine where the position was available; I had deeply admired the talent and the integrity of the staff; and the job required that I learn about a field—the beauty industry—about which I knew very little. A job full of positives and yet I was afraid to take it; afraid that the staff wouldn’t like me; afraid I would be lonely; afraid I wouldn’t be able to do the job well, afraid I’d miss the ease and familiarity of my 14)freelance life. I recognized it as the same fear I’d felt more than 50 years ago, playing out in a different way. When I thought of the possibilities that might come with the job—Fun! A long ride! Fast-paced! New!—my heart leapt. But of course, then: “What if...?” The leaping feeling turned to 15)pounding. This time, through the racket, I simply said, “Yes, I’ll do it.” It finally seemed more painful not to take the risk than to take it. And if I fell off the end? I’m a big girl now; I thought I could handle it. I imagined my fear as a scrim fluttering between the unknown and myself. I would try walking through it.
On my first day at the office (after a sleepless night), I expressed my anxiety to one of my new colleagues. “I’m really scared I’m not going to be able to do this job,” I told her. “I feel as if I don’t know anything about anything.”
“And if you can’t do it?” she said.
Then, I said, “I guess I’ll 16)slink out of here in shame.” She seemed to understand the depth of my unease without making me feel that it was 17)justified. Then she 18)patted me on the arm. “It’s always good to have a plan,”she said.
When I 19)submitted my first shot at a photo caption (just a caption!), it was quickly returned to me with 20)“cliché” scrawled across the top of the page. Yikes! I had my plan, of course. But slink out in shame? I didn’t think so, and at least not without another try. And—damn—another! Finally: “perfect”. In 30 years, I’ve never had a job I’ve enjoyed more, that has pushed me more or offered such rich opportunities. The possibilities I thought might materialize are even more interesting, more exciting than I’d ever imagined. I’m still 21)butting up against fear at almost every turn. But now, when it feels right, to the 22)din of my pounding heart, I walk through it. 当我还在大学修读法语专业时，曾有机会在一个富有的法国家庭里当保姆。我不记得具体的细节，但我准确记得他们住在曼哈顿一所看起来像宫殿般富丽堂皇的联排别墅中，在欧洲有几套房子，还计划在暑期拖着孩子和保姆一起去旅游。无论陪伴这个特别的家庭会有什么样的挑战，但广游欧洲的机会不仅令人激动不已，在那时对我来说更是可遇不可求。而且我喜欢小孩子，也计划着从事教学工作。这似乎是一个很好的契机。然而我十分害怕接受这份工作；害怕这个家庭会不喜欢我；害怕自己会孤单；害怕我不能给孩子很好的照顾；害怕我会想念男友和家人。所以那个夏天我留了在家，住在父母家里，在办公室上班，领着一份还不错、体面的薪水，做着相当无趣乏味的工作。为了自娱自乐，我阅读以巴黎和威尼斯为背景的小说，想象着如果我去了那里会是怎样。在之后的几年里，各种机会向我投射光芒，照亮通往不可预测的冒险之路，但我的恐惧就像一个幽灵在我面前张牙舞爪，黯淡了前程。
奇怪的是，如果我陷入某个理应害怕的情境之中——一艘下沉的划艇，随意举个例子，或者一场大厦火灾——我知道自己会应付自如，不会惊慌失措或因焦虑而呆滞，而是处理好事情，当场变得有效率。我处理过这样的事情，引得众人纷说，“那肯定非常地吓人，”我压根没觉得那么可怕。那么，我的恐惧的本质是什么呢？如果非要我给个名字，我会称之为“万一……”难题，因为其对我的冲击力来自于在将来某个时刻可能会发生某些事情的可能性，而非现在出现的状况。
“万一……”难题也许在很久以前会更为有效，我现在懂了。实际上，我记得，在我长大的那个房子里，我就想过从楼梯的扶栏上往下滑——我大概三岁，因为那个扶栏似乎离地面很高——想着：“真有趣！这么长的滑行！快速！新奇！”然后，“但万一滑到了底端，最后跌下来呢？”如果我坚持到底的话，我肯定就照滑不误的，只不过最后要熬疼、受伤而已。
令人困扰的是，随着我日渐成熟，提出“万一……”这样的问题会成为一种思维模式，在脑中浮现每一种可能发生的灾难，无论是多么不可能的灾难。就算大局已定，在我的脑海里，还是会生成一个可能“最后会跌倒”的结果。考虑到这些，我开始刻意地避免提出这个问题，因为它诱发太多的焦虑。所以我追求舒适和亲近，而非刺激和独特。这很简单，甚至令人喜悦和愉快（舒适和亲近本就能够带来的），但这并不是一条具有挑战性的、能指引你通往充实生活的道路。
不久之前，有一份工作向我招手。我一直干着自由撰稿人的工作，这足以让我过得很滋润，而且非常配合我的弹性时间表，所以我以前从不觉得我会对要我每天按时在办公室出现的全职工作感兴趣。然而，向我招手的这本杂志正是我爱读的；我非常欣赏该杂志员工的才能和真诚；还有，这份工作要求我了解一个领域——美容产业——而对于这个领域我所知甚少。一份不乏好处的工作，然而我还是害怕接受它；害怕员工们会不喜欢我；害怕自己会孤单；害怕我不能胜任这份工作，害怕自己会想念安逸的日子以及我对于自由工作的那份亲切感。我承认这和五十多年前我感觉到的恐惧是一样的，只是表现方式不同。当我想到随这份工作而来的种种可能性时——真有趣！这么长的旅程！快节奏！新奇！——我的心怦怦直跳。当然，之后便是：“万一……？”心跳变成了重击。这次，透过嘈杂声，我只是简单回答：“是的，我接受。”似乎不接受这个冒险会比接受来得更痛苦。如果我最后跌倒在地呢？我已是一个成熟的女人；我想我会处理得很好。我把我的恐惧想象成一帘薄纱，它在已知的我和未知的我之间飘舞着。我会努力跨过这帘薄纱。
我上班的第一天（经过了一个不眠之夜），我向一个新同事表达了我的焦虑。“我真的很担心自己不能胜任这份工作，”我告诉她。“我感觉自己对什么事都一无所知。”
“万一你真的胜任不了呢？”她说道。
然后，我说：“我想我会羞愧地偷偷溜走。”她似乎理解我深深的不安，却没让我觉得感到不安是理所当然的。接着她拍拍我的手臂。“有计划总是好的，”她说道。
第一次上交对新闻图片撰写的配图文字（对，只是配图文字而已）后，马上就给打回头了，页面上端潦草地写着“陈词滥调”的评语。呀！当然，我有自己的计划。但是羞愧地偷偷溜走？我想我不会这么做的，至少在进行第二次尝试之前不会。然后——该死的——又一次！直到最后：（评语是）“完美”。30年以来，从没有一份工作让我这样享受过，这样推动我前进，或者这样给予我多种多样的机会。那种种我认为最终会成为现实的可能性，反而更加有趣，比我想象中更使人兴奋。每次面临抉择，我还总是和心中的恐惧作斗争。但是现在，只要感觉对了，面对巨响心跳，我从容走过。