Rollercoasters, Yoga, and Other Practices in Discomfort


I haven’t dealt much with fear. I was raised practically. When I was younger I was afraid of rollercoasters. My parents convinced me as a child  to try a small, but very rickety old wooden coaster from the 1920s. Aside from being jostled in the uncomfortable seats, I felt coerced, and completely without control. I just had to wait out the rest of the ride. For a few years I felt  like a burden at amusement parks.  I wasn’t afraid of the ride, I was afraid of feeling trapped on it.

My decision to move to Austin, Texas sprung from an ominously growing, year-long boredom in Boston and an internship offer that I had previously conceded as a pipe dream. It paid a stipend of fifty dollars a week and offered a flexible, if busy schedule, so on the side I worked in a restaurant. On average, I worked sixty…

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