Trying new foods and recipes has never really been my thing. When I sit down to eat, I just want to like what I’m eating. I want to feel safe. What if I spend forty-five minutes cooking something that tastes like ass? But at the root of not wanting to try something new is fear. In the case of food—not a huge deal. But, what am I denying myself when I shy away from facing other kinds of fears?

Lately, I’ve been trying to just grab the paprika because even though I don’t know what it tastes like, I might actually like it. And, while the thought of flying without the children is unsettling, G and I are going to get on a plane by ourselves, because it's important to be there for our family. And I’m trying to encourage myself to have tough but meaningful conversations with loved ones, because I really want my relationships to be open and honest so they can grow.

The people I look to emulate are open to life and all it has to offer. Now, I’m not going to start skydiving and eating seafood—I’m not feeling that adventurous. I just have to remind myself that it’s ok to not always feel safe. It’s ok to walk towards the discomfort rather than shy away from it. I have to test my faith and push myself to just try it.

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