Living fearlessly

The pictures in this post are from an afternoon I spent wandering around the grounds of Chatsworth House a few weeks ago. I've never done this before (I usually just go to the cafe...) and realised I'd never shown them here. They don't have much to do with living fearlessly... 

I'm scared. 

Not right now, of sitting in my kitchen, drinking tea and staring (or trying to) through the misted up double glazing in the window. 

But in general, there are far too many things I'm scared of, and I can't be the only one. 

Mostly what I'm scared off can be summed up into one thing - getting into trouble. I've always been like this. I once had a day off school feeling utterly sick and miserable because I was terrified Miss Williams would tell me off for losing my exercise book. It took me years to get over accidentally reversing into a parked car and then getting points on my driving licence. I still feel slightly queasy when I think of Mr Herbert yelling at me in junior school for staying behind after assembly for recorder class without asking him.

I have vivid memories of the times when I've been told off. The policeman who stopped me after babysitting one night because I didn't have lights on my bike (I always have done since). The lady who asked us to stop talking in the quiet train carriage. The man who yelled at us for looking in a skip in the road. The park ranger who told us off for walking over a protected area to have a picnic (I still feel guilty about this - I did say I wasn't happy with it at the time but was in a big group and was overruled). 

All this means I can tend to be rather a stickler for the rules. If a sign says 'no entry' it doesn't even occur to me to ask why - 'because someone said so' is good enough reason for me. 

But sometimes this desire to be a decent, law abiding person goes too far, and my fear of getting into trouble becomes a general fear of not being approved of. Look at those examples I gave above - how many of them actually relate to laws? No, we shouldn't have walked over the protected area, and yes I should have had lights on my bike (I was about 14, I think, and travelling two minutes from home, but even so). 

But the other things? Talking in the quiet carriage was inconsiderate (we hadn't seen the signs), and of course I shouldn't have reversed into the parked car - but it was clearly an accident and nobody was hurt. Looking into a skip? You might not like it, but I'd argue that throwing away nearly new toys and furniture is more criminal. 

And being shouted at by a teacher in junior school? I'm 35 for goodness sake - probably ten years older than the teacher was then! Why do I still feel sick, all these years later? 

I think it comes down to wanting people to like me. I like to think of myself as a good person, and when I do something that I don't think of as 'good', or that someone tells me is bad (whether their reasons are valid or not), I feel bad. 

Sometimes, though, I make up reasons to feel bad, and then feel bad anyway - and then I know I've truly slipped down into some strange spiral of gloom. A neighbour is clearing the path of weeds - I say thank you but instantly writhe with guilt that I haven't done it myself. My boss tells me they're changing the 'work at home' policy and I immediately feel bad for all the times I worked at home (with permission) in the past. The neighbours are singing at the tops of their voices at 3am, and I stand outside in the street, in my nightie and bare feet, waiting for them to finish their song so I can ask, ever so politely, if they'll keep it down a bit now please, all the time feeling like a complete spoilsport. 

Well, I've had enough.

Don't worry, I've not had a complete personality transplant and I'm not going to go around breaking the law for no good reason, and walking across the grass just because I can. 

But I've had enough of carrying round the guilt of childhood misdemeanours. I'm bored of worrying about what people in the street think of my garden, whether I've washed my car, or that my attic window isn't painted the same colour as the rest. 

I'm fed up of having arguments in my head with people who aren't there.  

Please tell me I'm not the only one who does this. Please tell me there are some of you who wind yourself up into a frenzy with the boss, or the person walking past your house, or the guy in the supermarket, explaining and justifying why you did this, or didn't do that, until you're hot and grumpy and the next time you see that person you glare at them and they wonder what on earth they've done because (surprise!) while you were arguing with (your imaginary version of) them, they were walking the dog, or having a bath, or on holiday, and not thinking about you at all. 

Well, it ends here. I'm not sure how, and it might take a while, but each time I catch myself arguing with someone who isn't there, or explaining myself when nobody's asked me to, or feeling bad for something I did twenty years ago that didn't hurt anyone, I'm going to stop, and have a nice cup of tea instead, and think pleasant thoughts instead. I'm sure nothing at all will change in the outside world, but it will certainly be a lot more peaceful inside my head.

Are you with me?