I'm a coward; it's how I was raised.

Encouraged not to dream too high or want too much, I was afraid during most of my childhood -- of the dark, of strangers, rejection, failure, and the general unknown. I couldn't even ask for ketchup at some Burger King joint without feeling anxious about the employee's response. It's why I never studied art and design in school despite my wanting to be an artist; I was afraid to try in case I failed.

When I was about 13, the groups at the nearest high school came to visit my middle school campus for some sort of recruitment demonstration. None of the performances were as impressive to me as that of the varsity and junior varsity cheersquads in their blue, gold, and white.

I was enthralled.

I felt unworthy.

I wanted to be a cheerleader.

But I didn't try out that year. I rationalized that I'd miss out on drama rehearsals, even though I only had around five lines in the school play. I also reasoned that I didn't have a ride to the tryouts, even though two other girls in my drama class made carpool arrangements there. Then I thought of what people would think of me, that they'd see me as a mouse of a girl trying to be something I wasn't, and -- I thought -- I probably wouldn't make it anyway. So I thought I'd save myself the pain and not try out at all.

The resulting regret stayed with me the entire year,... and I hated it.

When tryouts came around again next spring, I signed up for the practices. I was scared out of my mind the entire time, but I refused to live with the regret of not even trying.

Yet it was hell for me. The other girls went in groups for emotional support, while I went alone feeling friendless. Everyone was cute, healthy, friendly and smiling, while I -- being so afraid -- was all stony, unsmiling silence. In my eyes, the other girls did really well, while I -- on the other hand -- was a retard. I kept imagining that when they looked at me, they either dismissed me out of hand or secretly thought, "Hmph! Who does she think she is?"

As if that wasn't enough to destroy my psyche, I was grouped with the slowest girls while learning the Fight Song, and I couldn't manage a full split or a neatly executed jump. I thought for sure then I'd fail because all my life the driving force within me was my mother's voice telling me, "Artists starve. You have to be really good to make it. Be a government clerk."

I was scared out of my mind.

The one thing that kept me going was the even greater fear that I would graduate from high school with more of that dreaded regret -- that painful shoulda-coulda-woulda.

So I went to the practices, and then I "tried out". I don't actually remember much of the audition except that I made a mistake doing one of the cheers and pulled a muscle during the final split. Everything else went by in a heart-racing, arch-aching blur. The whole episode was terrifying, but I did it.

It was one of my few moments of bravery -- and probably the first major one that resulted in something good. I made the squad that year and the year after. Every time I look back on it, I mark it as a turning point in my life because I actually took a risk and reached out for something I wanted -- a foreign concept in the pattern of my cowardly life -- and it's made my later "acts of bravery" even easier to carry out.

That is not to say that I no longer live in constant fear of failure. The pattern is so deeply ingrained in me that I have to fight it everyday. It was an act of bravery when I first moved out of my parent's house. It was an act of bravery when I went out to find a "real" job. It was an act of bravery every time I allowed myself to be vulnerable emotionally, financially, and even professionally.

They seem like such little deeds when I look at them objectively, but for someone like me they're like reaching for the Nobel Prize and taking it. Anything -- anything at all -- that leaves me open to judgment or rejection, is something I naturally avoid; it's like never asking a person out on a date because you don't like giving anyone the chance to tell you "no".

Success in life is all about risk, but you can't win if you don't play.

So every time I play, every time I break the pattern,... it's an act of bravery.