Fuck that noise about doing one thing every day that scares you.
Every day, wake up in your same old bed with your same old sweetheart. Open your sleepy eyes to the dresser you’ve had since high school; open the drawer to pull out the same style cotton underpants you’ve worn since you gave up diapers. Read your kid a poem you’ve loved since college. Eat the same breakfast you eat every single morning. Rock the old rut of a playlist as you drive to the gym; run the same program on your favorite machine watching a rerun of Law and Order you’ve seen at least five times. Go to the Coop and flirt with the whole staff: the straight lady with the new grandbaby, the grumpy baby dyke; the feminist superhero in the deli and the very solemn boys in the butcher shop. Buy the same bag of groceries you buy every week. Stand on the playground of the school you can see from your house with the other mamas and papas and watch the children you love stream into the afternoon sun. Cook something for dinner you’ve cooked a thousand times. Listen to your sweetheart tell a story you’ve known for fifteen years. Sit your ass on the old blue couch and watch something stupid on TV.
Once in a blue moon pack it all into the leaky barrel of your heart. Gird yourself with the comfort of the life you love, fortify yourself with hope and faith and denial and naivte, and throw it over the rapids. Don’t do the thing that scares you; do the thing that terrifies you. Do the impossible thing; the thing that would destroy you. When your barrel bobs to the surface, allow that there might be some wreckage on the rocks. But dollars to doughnuts it won’t be a total loss.
Wake up. Open your eyes to the new day. In your same old bed, with your same old sweetheart.