Failure, Fear, and Doing It Anyway (aka Faith)

Lately, I've been crippled with anxiety. I hate using that word because it's self-diagnosed, but it's the closest one I can think of to describe how I've been allowing my own insecurities and fears to shut down possibilities and opportunities because WHAT. IF. I. FAIL?!

I haven't written (or done any of my other hobbies) in awhile, and this is the reason:
*Welcome to my brain, buckle your seatbealts for utter nonsense ahead*

Well, you could write....but what if someone hates what you have to say? What if you "say" all the wrong things and people, like LOTS and LOTS of people, get offended? Actually, what if nobody reads what you write at all? What if it just disappears into the giant, black hole that is the internet? Yeah, you definitely shouldn't write. Don't write to be relatable. Don't write to encourage other women. Don't write to work through your own emotions. Whatever you do, don't write. Maybe you should cry. Yes, definitely cry instead.

It got so bad I finally knocked some sense into myself and scheduled a phone call with a life/business coach who may or may not have had any real qualifications that I found in a frenzy online because I just needed someone who isn't committed to loving me for eternity (looking at you darling Husband) to tell me to get over my fears and to get over myself. Obviously, she didn't say exactly that, but we talked a lot and in the course of the conversation, she asked a lot of questions that changed my way of thinking like nothing else.

"What are you afraid of?" For some reason when she asked me this, it hit me differently than when anyone else had. I sat on the phone in complete silence for what felt like an eternity but was really more like 3.6 seconds and then managed to blurt out, "Nothing, I'm not afraid of anything," which is complete garbage. I knew it and she knew it, so she turned it right back around to me and said, "Well, you already told me you were afraid of failing, so what does failure look like that makes you so afraid?" That time, I knew the answer, "It looks like disappointment. Disappointment on the face of everyone that I care about." And as soon as I said that out loud I realized how ridiculous that fear really was. Ridiculous, but also completely real and one I'd been letting paralyze my progress. Continuing on with the writing allegory I used in the adventure through my brain and because it's what most applies in the case of this blog(although it was just a tiny fragment of what we discussed), whether or not I write will never disappoint the people that love me. They love me anyway because that's just how that works. But not writing at all because of fear- that's just the control freak in me deciding self-induced failure is the more comfortable way to go.

"What's your 5-year goal?" Oh, an easy one! I write down my goals often. Writing things down has a way of helping me focus and remember what's important and I'm a strong believer that when you take the time to write down your goals, those things have a way of manifesting themselves into your life. I like to call it the Lord's abundance, you can call it whatever you like. The point is, I knew my goals... I won't go into all the details, but I spilled my guts to her about all kinds of things. My desire to travel with my family year-round. Homeschool my kids. Build a business. Etc, etc, etc. To me, they felt like really great, challenging goals. I like a challenge! But then she says to me, "I'll be honest, I don't think your goals are big enough." And my jaw kind of hit the ground. Who says that? Who is she to tell me MY goals aren't big enough? If I'm being totally honest, I was a bit offended. And then she says, "You could do any of those things today, the only thing that's stopping you is fear and change." Yeah.....Well, crap.... consider me un-offended because that's one giant truth bomb I wasn't ready to hear. In fact, I still don't really like having to admit that she said it because then I have to admit to KNOWING that kind of truth. And it absolutely is truth and I'm willing to bet it applies to almost all of us in some capacity. We all have a desire to improve in some way. And the difference between where we are now and where we want to be all boils down to the tiny decisions we make every day to change.

"What's something you can commit to doing that will bring you closer to where you want to be?" This one was really hard. I didn't want to commit to anything. I already felt overwhelmed in life and committing just opened me up to that dreaded failure. If I committed to her and then didn't fulfill that commitment, I really would fail and she really WOULD be disappointed. Then it wasn't just the fear of failure, it was actual, justifiable failure I'd have to deal with. Now looking back, I'm fairly certain that she knew that's what would be going through my mind even though she didn't call me out for it. She let me sit and think for a few minutes and I finally said, "I don't know right now... I'm probably going to have to think about it for a little while." Oh, the curse of the overthinker. I wish I'd been able to just name something with confidence, but nothing came to mind. Probably because she'd already overwhelmed me with her clarity & common sense. But, she didn't press me for a better answer.

Now that a few weeks of overthinking have taken place, I've come to this conclusion:

Success in any form comes from having the faith to do it anyway. It's looking your fears in the face and telling them to get out of the way because you have work to do. And when those fears are too big that you can't beat them, as Glennon says, you "just do it scared."


So, today even though I'm terrified, I'm writing. I'm writing and I'm going to hit publish even though it's opening up to the world some of my crazy I like to keep hidden. I'm writing because this is authentic, and honest, and mine. And hopefully, more than anything else, I'm writing because someone else will read this and know that even though they're terrified they're not alone and whatever it is they want is possible.

Because it is. It doesn't matter if you're scared. Just do it anyways.






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The Nitty Gritty

Life has been hard lately.

I say that and then I immediately want to start beating myself up.

"Your life is not hard."
"You have so much to be thankful for."
"You shouldn't complain."

All of those things are true but in spite of all of that junk that I put on myself the fact is... Life. Has. Been. Hard. We're eleven and a half months into living with my in-laws. That doesn't really need any explanation, but I'm going to give it. Don't for a minute think that I've got dreadful inlaws. They are as good as they come. That is not an exaggeration. I will never be able to thank them enough for saying, "Move on in." when we sold our house sooner than expected. (And before we were ready, if we're being totally honest.) Eight of those months we've been building our dream home which is both the most amazing and also the most difficult thing we've ever done as a family. But really the biggest challenge is that when you're used to having your own space for a long time, it's really tough to have to share again. It's hard on us. It's hard(er, I'm sure) on them. It's hard feeling like the messes your kids make (all kids make) are worse than ever because it's now a mess in someone else's home. It's hard to live in a house that isn't your home. It's hard to feel like you don't have all of your clothes/shoes/recipes/tools/toys/blankets/etc/etc/etc that help your normal life function.  It's hard to not have enough space to put your things. I've fallen into this "if I fold the laundry it will all just be unfolded in bins anyway because we don't have any freaking DRESSERS here" phase.

I spend my time at the new house taking it all in and telling myself, "I'm so ready for this. This feels like home." But also knowing that even though we're ready for it, it's not quite ready for us. Knowing that I need to be patient because it will be even better to move in once it's complete, 100% finished. And then I come home to the mountains of once folded, but never stays that way laundry that fills the entire room where we sleep and cry because I feel like I'm drowning underneath jeans and t-shirts. Suffocating in sweatpants.

And I don't even own sweatpants....

I think you get the point here.  Sometimes life just isn't how we want it to be. It isn't always the beautiful thing that we've worked so hard to build. Sometimes it's messy and broken and disorganized and scary. Sometimes we just want to break down and cry.

Yesterday, while we were working on the house, our good friends' two-year-old little girl was so sad she was doing just that. So, I snuggled her up and carried her out to our trampoline. The same thing I've done with my own kids so many times. We sat in the sunshine and played. I held her hands and we jumped and sang "Ring around the Rosie. Pocket full of posies. Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down." We'd fall down together, she'd giggle and I'd scoop her back up. Over and over again. The sadness couldn't last.
Then, there's my Ezra... who was so genuinely excited and amazed this past week to help with the "bonfire" of construction scraps, that he decide to also throw his new shoes in to watch them burn. So frustrating. So funny. But, ashes.

I'm thankful for the little moments like these that give me clarity. When I was in my "ashes" today, it didn't take me long to dust them off and remember that a little light will drive out the darkness. A few snuggles and giggles will make it all right. So, I snuggled the kids and we laughed together.

And then I folded the laundry....

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