Mold, Marlin and Fear

I have every good reason to be scared of my MIL's food. Today, minding my own business, eating a unidentifiable noodle dish given to us by said MIL, I stab another bite and looked down to see a gumball size pocket of green and white fuzzy mold staring at me. Not immediately puking was not an easy task, but sitting with a group of semi-strangers meant I could not follow such instincts. Swallowing hard, I fought the urge to dry heave and instead, very politely excused myself from the table and rocketed the grossness into the trash. EWWWWWWW!!!! Need I say more? And my husband wonders why I pick at everything and sniff everything his mother gives us. GROSS!
I caught one of the beginning portions of Finding Nemo this morning and it dawned on me that I am much like Marlin. Scared of everything--always wondering the what-ifs and letting them paralyze me. I really am not scared of everything--but I am scared enough that it changes how I live my life. There are risks that I wish I had taken, choices that I wish I had made, opportunities that I lost--all based on my fear. There are lots of fears. Fear of not being prepared, of not knowing how to do something, of being wrong or looking stupid, of the unknown, of anything different. I do really well with routines and changes from that make me anxious. It is anxiety too--I am anxious as that damn fish--and look where it got him! Nowhere! His mini-flippered son disappeared and it wasn't until he manned up and grew a pair (if fish even have a pair) that things turned out okay. Is that what I need to do? Grow a proverbial pair?
Fears. The fears. I would be an airline pilot right now if I hadn't been scared. I would also not have gone to UVA. I would be able to get rid of my paper bank and credit card statements. I would be able to be honest all the time without fear of being left and abandoned. I would be able to "stick to my guns" and not be resentful and frustrated for giving up my convictions. I might be able to stand up for myself (or maybe not) and I might even be willing to put my neck out and write the children's book I have always wanted to write. Fear and anxiety. Fear and anxiety.
I feel pathetic. I am a semi-grown woman (I will never be a real grown up) and I am dominated by fear and anxiety. I am expert and playing out in my head all the possible scenarios in any situation. And I let those scenarios stop me in my tracks--freeze me. FUCK! Even my career (though I love taking care of my kiddos with cancer and would never in a million years take it back) is based on SOMEONE ELSE'S hopes and dreams and aspirations. Not my own!
Wow--never said that out loud before. Feels a little odd...maybe some sense of freedom...though I probably won't ever really feel that until I apologize to the person whose dream I copied. I am struggling to believe that it doesn't make me a bad person. Struggling and failing. If you read this--you know who you are--I am sorry--and someday maybe I will be fearless enough to actually say it to your face.
I am sorry world. I am a coward. A fake. Is that why I want to do daredevil things? To prove that I am fearless? Is that why I want to find myself? To prove that I am not a fake?