Our attitude towards life determines life's attitude towards us. ~John N. Mitchel

When I was 21 years old I stopped answering the phone because I couldn't get over the fear of not knowing who would be on the other side of the line or what they would want. I rarely spoke in groups, even amongst friends. Eventually, I hardly had any friends. Life was just too scary, too painful, too unpredictable.

As a way to compensate for my lack of participation I would often hide behind the camera. I took hours and hours of video footage at family gatherings, birthday parties, vacations, etc. I'd edit it together and make wonderful little home movies that were actually interesting to watch. This is how I spent my time. This is how I communicated.

In 2008 I went back to school for graphic design and, just for fun, I decided to take a story boarding class. I wanted to make better videos. On the first day of class the professor announced that he liked to have a lively class and that, as long as we all participated, we wouldn't have any tests. I knew I was in trouble. I'd much prefer the tests.

I gave it my best shot, but I just couldn't handle it. The thought of speaking up in class was petrifying. When he assigned us to work in groups I just couldn't bring myself to go back. And I certainly couldn't bring myself to meet with the professor and officially drop the class. I received a failing grade.

A year later, I decided to try again. I signed up for the class and showed up on the first day. By the end of that class, the tips of my fingers and my tongue had gone numb. I considered quitting again. It was at that moment that I realized what a serious problem I truly had.

I realized that I could continue on this path of avoiding pain and fear, or I could step through the fear and live the life I dreamed of. Easy to say, not so easy to do. So I devised a plan, an experiment. I called it my New Personality Experiment. Basically, I decided that every time I felt that old familiar feeling of fear, I would act like I imagined one would if they weren't so fearful. Nothing major, just things like looking people in the eye and saying what I was thinking instead of clamming up. An experiment to see how people would respond to me differently if I behaved differently.

The results were instantaneous. People DID respond to me differently. In one instance I was getting some fast food and having a really awful day. The cashier was very short and rude and my first instinct was just to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Then it occurred to me that I hadn't even looked at him throughout the whole transaction. That I probably appeared very short and rude to him, and that he'd probably had a slew of customers just like me all day. So I paused. I looked up at him, looked into his eyes, smiled, and said thank you. Then I had the absolute pleasure of seeing this guys whole face change. His eyes lit up, his shoulders relaxed, and he said very warmly, "Thanks! You too." One single moment, one small choice, changed the nature of the interaction between us. Made the day for both of us.

This was pretty powerful stuff. This was amazing. This was addicting! I began looking forward to meeting new people, to interacting with people, to getting outside my own head and into theirs. The old fears were still there, each interaction was still so painful and so difficult, but I was changing. Slowly, but surely.

Then, one day, just a few weeks into this experiment, I decided it would be pretty neat to actually work on a film. I went on Craigslist and looked up film crew ads. I emailed a few. Emails are easy, no pain involved in sending an email.

I got one response. And, to my horror, the director simply said, "Contact my assistant director. Here's his number." His number? What, you mean I actually have to make a phone call? To a stranger? To say I have absolutely no experience whatsoever can I please come work on your film? You've got to be kidding me. No way was this going to be possible.

I wrote the number down anyway and for two days I carried it around in my pocket. I could think of nothing else. I couldn't concentrate at work, I couldn't sleep. Finally, I realized I had to decide, I was either going to call this guy or I wasn't.

So, after work on the second day, I got in my car and I decided, this is it. I'm either going to call him before I leave this parking lot, or I'm just not going to call him at all. There's not going to be a better time.

And there was more hanging in the balance than just this one gig. If I couldn't call for this gig, I certainly wasn't going to be able to call for any other. If I didn't move forward now, I never would. I could give up, go home, and continue to live my ordinary life, or I could make this phone call, get involved in film, and see where it takes me.

I watched the sun go down. I watched the rush hour traffic dissipate. After over an hour of sitting there in anguish, I started to cry. And as I was crying, I very slowly dialed the numbers on the crumpled piece of paper in my hands. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life.

A week later I showed up on my first film set. I've been to many more since then, and I'm pretty good at it so far. I love film making more than anything, I can't imagine doing anything else with my life. I've made many new friends and reconnected with old ones. I no longer burst into tears at the thought of making a simple phone call, though I do still tend to avoid it when I can help it. Still it's unbelievable how far I've come in the space of a year. I've still got a long way to go, but I'm looking forward to the journey.

What's your fork in the road?

Cheers!