Sometimes, my fear almost consumes me. My chest tightens. My breathing quickens. And I have an overwhelming urge to give up.

This is because life has a knack for making me uncomfortable. Whether it's walking to store after dark or entering a room filled with unfamiliar people, I often feel like I'm teetering on the edge ... one small slip and I will fall into a deep, dark abyss.

Case in point: I was in a car accident four years ago. Terrible little mishap. Rain-slicked roads led to a four car pile-up. My little white car was stuck in between a black Nissan hatchback and a black Ford stationwagon. It was kinda like an oreo cookie. Only with blood and screaming.

There are only three times in my life when I thought I was going to die - and that was one of them.

Despite my qualms with organized religion, in times of severe crisis (and mind-blowing pleasure), I suddenly become devoutly religious. Religion for me is apparently alot like duct tape: good to use when I'm in a pinch.

Anyway, back to my story. Luck was on my side that day. Although my car now more closely resembled a frisbee than a motor vehicle, I was alive and relatively undamaged. Thanks to my airbag and seatbelt. Without them, I probably wouldn't be here typing this entry today. Or, if I was, it would be without a head.

Decapitated diarylanders creep me out - so let's quickly move on.

The consequence of this accident was my intense fear of driving. In fact, I didn't drive for four years after that. Not one lick. Not even a hop to the store to pick up milk. First, I said it was because I didn't have a car.

But,as the years went by, I realized that it was because my fear had overtaken me. I was too afraid to get into a car out of fear of being in another accident. Out of fear that I had used up all my luck on the last one. And, next time, I might not walk away.

And the thing about fear is that the more you feed it, the bigger it grows. By not facing it, I was creating a monster. Soon, the very thought of driving made me break out into cold sweats. I was a prisoner of all my doubts and insecurities. Of all the "what if's" and "could be's". I was locked inside a cell of my own making.

Every year I would say "This is year that I'm going to drive." But then, when an opportunity presented itself (and there were many)- the feeling of being afraid was too uncomfortable for me. So I opted to not try because if I never tried then I would never risk failure.

For years, this little strategy of mine was working for me. In a very dysfunctional way - but working none the less. Until about three weekends ago. Jake and I just bought a new car. (My first new car and Jake's first car in the states.) We were both so very excited. The only catch was that Jake had to drive his old car, the one he had been leasing in Canada, back to its Canadian dealer. This posed a problem because, although Jake is very talented in many areas, driving two cars at once is not one of them. Knowing my phobia of driving, Jake asked every possible person to drive the new car back to Canada with him so he could have an affordable way back home. Unfortunately, he was having no luck.

Then, one afternoon over grilled chicken sandwiches, he quietly asked me to make the trip with him.

How could I say no? He needed me. And isn't that what marriage is all about ... knowing that, when needed, your spouse will always be there for you.

Of course, I said yes. Then immediately regretted it.

As the time to leave quickly approached, I tried every excuse not to go. I told him I would crash. I told him I would get lost. I told him that we were making a big mistake because I know me better than anyone - and I really shouldn't be operating heavy machinery.

But we had no choice. I had to do it.

I didn't sleep hardly at all the night before. I knew I had a ten hour trip through MOUNTAINS ahead of me. I was terrified.

I couldn't summon the courage to drive down the street to the QuikMart - now I had volunteered to steer through rugged terrain.

Way to go, Keryanna. Nothing like dying from a heart attack before you reach thirty.

So the morning of the drive came and, to be honest, I would have rather had my face sawed off then get in that car. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. My heart was pounding a million beats per minute and every pore was screaming at me to run away.

My fear was in top form. Growling and thundering all around me.

I thought for sure I wouldn't be able to conquer it. It was too big by now and I was far too uncomfortable. Some people thrive off of fear. Fear motivates them to charge full steam ahead. To those people I say more power to ya.

For me, however, fear motivates me to turn around and run very fast in the opposite direction.

But I didn't this time. I stayed. And I got in the car. And I started to drive.

I won't lie to you. There were several times when I wanted to stop. When I didn't think I could do it. When I didn't have faith in myself to succeed.

But that's the plus to being by yourself in a car for ten hours ... just as quickly as you can talk yourself out of things - you can talk yourself right back into them.

Not to mention, it leaves ample time for introspection.

Suffice to say, I made it to Canada. Both me and the car with all parts in proper working order.

I thought about this trip today when I had the same urge to give up. I was really uncomfortable for a bit - and I felt the tiny nudge of fear at my back.

But I realized something that day through the mountains. That, in order to grow, you have to exceed your limits. You have to face the things that you fear most. Because, if you don't, they will always hold you back. You will always be their captive.

I'm still afraid of so many things.

So. Many. Things.

But, tonight, my monster is a little less fierce. And its claws have dulled a bit.

Oh, believe me. It's still there though.

Waiting.

It growls and snarls everytime I'm afraid I won't pass a test. Or get a promotion. Or be a good mom.

It feeds on all my insecurities. Of which there are many.

And grows everytime I choose to walk away instead of stay and fight. When I decide to play it safe instead of taking a risk. When I opt to shy away from the road less travelled because I don't want to be the first to trample the grass.

Fear is alot like duct tape: No good if all it does is get in your way.

But I am facing my fears. Little by little. Day by day. Monster by monster.

It's the only way I know how.

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