How am I going to do this? The answer’s in the doing

"I don't know how I'm going to do this."

I tell myself this, and just about anyone else willing to listen, on a regular basis.

The thought has been with me as long as I can remember.

When I was a child afraid of the water and my parents enrolled me in swimming classes at the Y, I whimpered, "I don't know how I'm going to do this," when the instructor repeated, "Dunk your head under the water!"

My fear had too strong a hold on me, and I did not learn to swim at the Y.

It wasn't until my parents took me to the beach at Indian Lake that I made peace with the water. I wasn't even thinking about drowning when I was jumping off my dad's shoulders into the water. I don't know how I did it, but I learned how to float and dog paddle. I also learned that enemies like the water can become friends when you're not focused on how afraid you are of them.

I didn't think I'd ever lose focus on how afraid I was of driving a car, though.

When I was 16, I didn't know how I was going to get through driver education. Would I drive the wrong way down one of downtown's one-way streets, forcing the instructor to slam on his brakes? Would the other kids in the car laugh at my ineptitude? I'd never had to merge into traffic on an interstate - what if the traffic was bumper to bumper; how would I get on?

In answer to my not knowing how to get through this, God sent Sam Boyer. I have learned what a sense of humor means from several people in my life. But Mr. Boyer is a prime example of how to live life with an extra laugh tucked in your pocket for emergencies.

As it turns out, my teacher did have to slam on the brakes to prevent a driver from turning the wrong way on a one-way street. But I wasn't the driver. Did I get laughed at? Well, I did some things that caused some laughter to erupt ... but I was relieved to find that everyone else did things that prompted laughter, too. My humorous contribution was my first merge onto the interstate.

"Step on it!" Mr. Boyer urged. I sped up, but it wasn't enough.

"Move it! You want to be up to the speed the other cars are going," he pushed.

So, I put my foot all the way down on the accelerator. We shot ahead and I grinned.

Until I noticed Mr. Boyer's full cup of coffee, which was sitting precariously on the dashboard. I cringed as it dove off the dashboard. He grabbed it; coffee sloshed out the top and slopped onto his clipboard. With a frown, he started scribbling comments on my driving. Oops.

Well, he did tell me to speed it up! And I'm sure he later made some funny comment about the experience, because I doubt I'd be able to laugh now if I hadn't been encouraged to laugh and get on with it then.

I don't know how I did it, but I passed driver ed. I didn't pass my driving exam on the first try - or the second - but despite not knowing how I'd survive the humiliation of flunking twice (maneuverability), I passed on the third try.

Many years later, I still find myself amazed that I have survived a situation or done something that I couldn't figure out how I was going to do it.

Take, for instance, this column. I didn't know how I was going to write it before I began. What can I write about that's interesting? What if people hate it or my editor reads the first sentence, rolls her eyes and pitches it?

But writing it I am.

When I was promoted to assistant news editor, not a day went by when I didn't ask myself, "How am I going to do this?"

Well, first I got into my car. Without wondering how I was going to do it, I looked both ways and then backed out of my driveway.

I didn't think of how afraid of driving I used to be as I drove the familiar route to work.

At The Lima News, I took a deep breath and walked into the newsroom. Whatever I needed to do, even if I didn't know how I would do it, I would somehow make an effort to do something.

I think that's the key to doing things I don't know how I'm going to do: Find a way to begin, and go from there. It's in the doing that the fear begins to subside; the more you do, the less fear etches that question in the mind: "How am I going to do this?"