6 weeks later…How ya’ll doin’?

I’m not sure about you but this is not what I thought I would feel like 6 weeks later. I thought Fear Experiment would make me fearless, a savage fear conquistador, a boldly silent hero of the war on fear…you know…basically cooler than the dos equis guy.

Instead I have felt more fear, more intensely, than any other time in my life. It is the kind of fear that sits high on your chest, balancing in between your collarbones, taunting you to swallow or to sing. And it has been brilliant.

After years of self-diagnosed anxiety (thank you webmd), it is a privilege to actually feel fear instead of just worrying about feeling fear. Anxiety can only be explained as severe constipation of the fearful heart. And Fear Experiment was like the ultimate laxative.

Here is the short list of things I have been afraid of in the past 6 weeks: a trip to the dentist, riding a bike down Ravenswood, a first date, applying to a kick ass job, wearing a skirt without pantyhose, admitting I want to write a book, talking about my emotions and stuff in front of strangers, ordering the spicy tom yum, writing something personal and possibly embarrassing, applying for PhD programs.

The thing I learned the past six weeks is that Fear Experiment is not about conquering your fears. It is about taking a step forward with your fear; it is about recognizing that fear is part of that step; and it a weird way it is about thanking fear for giving you something to fight against.

And while I’m thanking my fear I would also like to thank:

CC for dancing in the air suspended only by ribbon.

Saya for quitting the “day job” so she can scare the shit out of more people.

Pete for proposing to that brave girl instead of farting.

My Jump4Joy team for making me run and not laughing at my blue and yellow snot.

Mama Lew for letting a girl cry into her vodka soda.

Amy and Derek for being the best version of 1+1=2

Everyone who shared a bottle of wine with me in the past 6 weeks, who talked about the ridiculousness of online dating and tiger tattoos, or who just shared, commented or liked a Facebook post.

I hope the world for all of you is still as bright and stingingly sharp as it was on April 29^th.

May you never be fear-less but always heart-full!

A Letter to my Fellow Fear Experimenters

Before we go onstage tonight, I would like to tell you all this:

You are inspiringly courageous.

You are softly strong.

You are gorgeously empathetic.

You are imperfectly beautiful.

You are simply lovely.

And you are going to rock it tonight. This is how I know:

Being a gigantic nerd, not only did I join Fear Experiment to learn about fear first hand, I also bought three books on Amazon and researched the shit about fear, why we feel it, and how we deal with it. I know I’m that girl.

The thing that kept coming up over and over again was how essential fear is to life. If you are alive, you feel fear. One of my favorite books—literally called The Dance of Fear—says this:

“If you are never fearful, you may also have trouble feeling compassion, deep curiosity, or joy. Fear may not be fun, but it signals that we are fully alive.”

This is how I know you are going to rock it. Because you choose to take this journey, you did something scary to feel alive, you showed up. And that is effin’ awesome.

The entire first month I lived abroad in Argentina, I cried. I was lonely, confused, and afraid I had made the wrong choice. My mom sent me this quote/prayer:

“May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.”

This quote has turned up randomly in my life when I most needed it. Once on the mirror at a yoga studio. Once in a book about love. Once at a church service. This week I have been reminding myself of this quote every morning and the one line that sticks out most for me is “May you not forget the INFINITE possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others.”

If there is an opposite of fear, it may not be bravery or even courage—it may be faith. Faith that our fellow Fear Experimenters will catch us, that they will say “yes and.” Faith that the audience will accept our mistakes and awkward pauses along with our sweet moves and funny one-liners. Faith that whatever that stage brings us, we will make it shine.

Go own it, beautiful people! I have mountains of faith in you all!

Niki

Niki: Dance: Dress Rehearsal and Reality

I can only describe dress rehearsal as rough: both physically rough (my body has been dancing for almost a week straight and my inner thighs went numb about 3 days ago) and emotionally rough (from the non-dance-related stress of crazy work to the wearisome worries of tickets, overnight guests and not publically humiliating myself). The reality of dancing on stage in front of 700 people is rough.

It was the kind of rough that just brings tears to your exhausted blurry eyes. The kind of rough that demands a good cry, a deep breath and an exhale of faith. The kind of rough that gives you the kind of growth you’ve been craving. A rough that helps you suddenly understand “growing pains.”

And it was a rough that made me remember why I joined Fear Experiment in the first place.

Last week DE Dancer (one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors ;)) Matthew Lew had all the dancers circle up after a particularly exhausting and draining practice. We must have looked a bit defeated and the ever-encouraging Matthew wanted to give us a boost to get us through the next two weeks. He asked us to all tell the group (and remind themselves) why we chose to do Fear Experiment.

Between nursing bruised knees and mastering the body roll, a lot of us have gotten “lost in the details.” We are so focused conquering the steps that we have forgotten the fears we came here to conquer in the first place. From expanding our social circles to taking time for ourselves to loving our bodies again, I related to a lot of what my fellow dancers had to say.

But as for my personal reasons for choosing Fear Experiment those were a bit harder to summarize in front of my 20 new friends. Despite my relative ease in social settings, I am forever a bundle of nerves and anxiety when it comes to performing, especially performances that can’t be edited or spell-checked.

It has taken me a few weeks of mulling to understand why I chose this journey.

My mother always says I always take the more difficult path even if the easier one is the right one. For the most part she is right. I’m in constant pursuit of self-improvement, the best example of which is my yearly NYE “theme.”

Instead of resolutions, each NYE I think of a theme for the year; my 2011 theme was courage. I “courageously” signed up for Fear Experiment honestly thinking I wouldn’t be selected; thinking I was too “normal” to be chosen. Or to be even more honest, I thought I was too “normal” to bring anything of value to a group of brave people.

And then I got the email that tested my courage of 2011 and swung me full steam ahead into 2012: the year of patience. Still riding on the high of the year of courage, Fear Experiment more than anything else has been about learning patience with myself. It has been about saying kinder things to myself. It has been about forgiving my own mistakes. It has been about realizing that I have something to give.

But more than all of that, more than courage and more than patience, Fear Experiment has been about that stage. It has been about putting myself, Justin Bieber hair and all, on stage and saying this is me. It is about believing that me is worth being on stage with 19 other amazing people, that me is worth 750 people cheering, supporting and loving me, that me is enough.

2011 was courage, 2012 patience, and the future may just be realizing that I don’t need a yearly theme to better myself because myself is pretty damn great as it is.

Inspiration from our fearless leader, CC:

quote of the day, from Editor In Chief of Cosmopolitan Magazine:

“People think chutzpah is in the genes. It isn’t.. it’s in the needing and wanting and being willing to fall on your face. It isn’t fun.. who wants all that rejection, but life is sweeter if you make yourself do uncomfortable things.” – Helen Gurley Brown

i am just overflowing with respect for all of you. You should be so excited for, and proud of, yourselves!

Niki: Week 8, Ticket Anxiety and New Fears

When I did the Fear Project with the kids at Marconi, I was amazed and a little humbled at how open and vulnerable some of the kids were able to be. I remember middle school as a time when you threw on your Tommy Hilfiger ensemble like a giant, expensive, yuppie mask and never ever admitted that you were anything less than totally chill and cool. But some of the kids at Marconi, with a little encouragement from Ms. Saya, got beyond their cool masks. I was particularly impressed by Kristian’s fear to be “alone.” (full disclosure: I may be a little biased since he is my pen pal.)

Up until this point, I had thought my biggest fear would be failing (or falling or both) in front of 750 people. But after realizing slowly that my biggest supporters wouldn’t be able to make the show, I began to realize there was something worse than failing in front of 750 people—it was not having anyone in those 750 people that would cheer you back up. It was being alone.

It has been a perfect storm of coincidences and busy life schedules that left me without a cheering section. My parents are down in Florida, wintering and enjoying retirement. My family in the city is expecting the first grandbaby of the family the day before the show. My bestie recently moved to Philly to pursue her DOA and will be in the middle of finals during the performance. But perhaps the biggest kicker: April 28 is my very dear friend’s birthday, a fact my muddled and perhaps overexcited mind forgot when I signed up and started trying to recruit people. And thus my college friends cheering section is gone.

I think in a way this is the universe’s way of saying, you wanted scary, I’ll give you scary. And so I had to deal with the idea of being alone, something I’ve always told myself I’m quite good at. But after more than one sleepless night thinking about being alone on that stage, I realized, maybe I couldn’t do this alone. As much as I wanted to pretend I was fine without my cheering section, I wasn’t. I needed the support. I can’t do this alone.

And so I had to face my next great fear of Fear Experiment: asking for help.

I e-mailed my coublings (cousin-siblings), who live in Minnesota, and basically begged for them to come. It is a seven-hour drive plus possibly taking time off work. It is a hassle, and if there is one thing good Midwestern folk don’t like is being a hassle or a burden. But I needed them, so I asked. It was not an easy e-mail to send or an easy response to wait for. Luckily, there was a quick yes.

The relief, gratitude, and genuine love I felt with their response was perhaps one of the best feelings throughout this whole experiment. That feeling, the feeling that you have people in your life who love and support you enough to drive seven hours after a long work week just because you ask, that feeling is priceless (or, more accurately, it is $48 and a few bottles of wine—the extra incentive I threw in for my coublings—and worth every penny.)

I think/hope I’m learning that with fear you can turn away, put on your mask, and pretend you are not afraid, or you can be truly brave, like the kids at Marconi, and declare your fear, ask for help, and hopefully get some loved ones to share your fear so it is not so damn heavy.

So what are you really afraid of? A lot of us are afraid of the stage but why exactly? Failure? Success? Mediocrity? Write what you are really afraid of on a sign and take your picture with your fear. Then send it to me at nrfritz@gmail.com for the Fear Project video.

We’re also arranging a little IE/FE get-together and Fear Project art time!

Where: Four Moons

When: Sunday, April 1, at 6:30 p.m. before classes!

What: Food/drinks/time to create a sign with your fear and let me snap a quick picture for the video!

See you all next Sunday!

Niki: Week 6 and the Fear Project

I’ve spent the past three years in Chicago simultaneously loving and hating, criticizing and coveting, exalting and diminishing the Tribune’s RedEye. The truth I was not willing to admit over my conflicted three-year journey: I wanted a column in that stupid frickin’ 20-page free paper so bad, but I was terrified of what people would think, terrified that they would hate my writing, terrified they would reject me.

I was afraid of not being good enough.

And then I started Dance Experiment. And I realized what it really meant to not be “good enough,” to literally stumble and misstep and make tangible mistakes.  And I realized it was not the mistakes I was afraid of, but how people perceived me because of these mistakes. It seems like a fine line, but I was not afraid of not being good enough, I was afraid others would think I wasn’t good enough.

This fear was so visceral I could feel it electrifying my skin, like it was rising to the surface from my core. And I let it. I let the fear come up through my skin and out. I vocalized my fear to anyone who would listen; I told my friends and dancemates about it, I blogged about it, and I admitted it to myself. I was afraid.

And suddenly with that recognition (and the confirmation from 19 other people that fear is normal), I e-mailed the editor at the RedEye and pitched an idea.

Three weeks later, this happened.

And it felt amazing. It was not that I stopped fearing what others would think during the entire writing, editing, and publishing process; I just didn’t let it stop me this time. You never “conquer” fear; you just let it come along for the ride with you.

I think one of the most powerful things about Fear Experiment is not just feeling the fear but vocalizing the fear and sharing the fear. I think that when we share it—and realize how normal we are—the fear stops owning us. I think what we are probably most afraid of is that we aren’t normal, that we don’t belong, that we are not good enough to be a friend, S.O., sister, daughter, writer, dancer, human being.

But the truth is, we all have fear. And if we share our fear, our imperfections, our struggles they can unite us more than any other common interests.

Taking inspiration from one of my favorite blogs, Brené Brown’s Ordinary Courage, I’ve decided to create an “I’m Terrified Too” iMovie, inspired by the Perfection Protest video Brown created last year. The idea is to put all of our fears out there and get rid of this idea that we should be “fearless.”

Want to vocalize your fears and contribute to the project?! I know you do!

All you have to do is get a piece of paper and write, draw, sketch what you are afraid of, what you fear. Take a picture with yourself and the piece of paper, and send it to me at nrfritz@gmail.com. I think a combined group bar bonding experience will probably be in order for sometime in the next few weeks, and I will bring supplies as well.

Feel free to be silly or serious. The Marconi kids already did the project and offer some great examples of what they are afraid of. Some of their honesty about their fears was so impressive. It made me really dig deep to discover what my real fears are. Check out the photos below.

 

On a side note, if you don’t want to participate in the slideshow but want to share your fear, I think it is a super-healthy awesome practice to do. I know by sharing with my fellow DEers, I already feel way less crazy and way more connected. So feel free to also comment your fears on this post!

Hope you all are having a courageous week!

Fear Experiment Bonding Moment!

There was a little football competition this Sunday called the Super Bowl. I’m not going to lie and say that I cared about the outcome, but I did certainly care about watching some great Super Bowl ads and eating more cheese-based appetizers than one person should be allowed to consume. It is the American way.

So I was super jazzed that current IEer and past DEer Amy graciously invited her new FE friends to her wondrous condo and Super Bowl party. First, let me say the house was packed to the point of the condo feeling like a downtown night club on a Saturday night. That did not stop all the FEers from finding each other and bonding over our shared moments of terror and also occasionally utter confusion. (Apparently I’m not the only one that has thought, oh lord, what did I sign up for?).

Over beverages and Oscar-made quesadillas, our little group of FEers started to feel like real-life friends. Sappy but also kind of really awesome.

Standing up to our fears

Afraid Together features the voices of just a few of the 38 Chicagoans facing our fears this winter. A project started in 2009 by Saya Hillman of Mac ‘n Cheese Productions, the annual Fear Experiment takes “people who don’t know each other and who are ‘bad’ and scared to do something”—specifically improv or dance, Saya explains on her website. Then, they train with a teacher and perform onstage.

Eighteen of us have chosen to train for three months in the art of improv, playing games that get us comfortable with our bodies (in the silliest way possible) and with the rest of our group. Twenty of us are learning to dance, also getting comfortable with our bodies, but in a less silly way, and figuring out how to train our angular selves to do body rolls. At the end of the three months (April 28), we’ll perform at the Park West in front of an audience of 750 people.

This is our diary.