The F Word(s)

Did you know that Abraham Lincoln had at least 9 failures before becoming President?  And I'm talking FAILURES.  Losing jobs, nominations, even being defeated in a Senate run.  Twice.  Ouch.

And yet his face still graces the penny and the five dollar bill.  The Lincoln Memorial in DC boasts more than 4,000,000 visitors a year.  Soooooooooooooooo, fair to say he managed to become a pretty big deal despite those failures?

Politics not your thing?  Well, Michael Jordan.  Did you know that he missed more than 9,000 shots over the course of his career?  Sure, that's more shots than the average NBA player even takes, but still.  How about 26 times, he was given the "make this shot to win" ball and missed.  He.  Missed.  But holy cow do we hold him up as one of the greatest.

Walt Disney (fired because he lacked imagination and good ideas), Oprah (deemed unfit for TV) and Elvis---they all failed, suffered serious rejection and probably, as taboo as it may be to utter, some hurt feelings along the way, too.

Who cares, right?  Why bother pointing out that they've failed?  Am I mean-hearted or cynical?  Am I somehow reveling in the idea that these folks who've been more or less placed on pedestals may, in fact, be somehow less deserving of said status?  Nope.

I'm pointing it out because failure is not fatal.  In most cases--don't make me go all legal-ese here and point out instances where failure is, in fact, fatal.  Let's go with that for the purpose of this post, shall we?  Alright, thanks!

And why do I care that failure isn't fatal?  Because this post is as much a note to me as it is to you.  I mean, I can't know your circumstances (unless you'd like to share them with me, and--by all means--do!), but I know mine.  And I know that I've been grappling with that F word for a while now.  And I'm grabbing it by its theoretical shoulders and shaking it.  It's been bullying me--or rather, I've been letting it bully me--for far too long.  And it stops.  Now. 

Raise your hand if you've been bullied too.  Go ahead.  I'm not judging.  I'm hugging.  And understanding.  And caring.  And challenging.  I'm challenging you to kick it to the curb.  I'm challenging myself to kick it to the curb.  We're stronger than our failures, aren't we?  Aren't we?  Yes, yes we are---that's the answer you were looking for, by the way.

So we've arrived at the point in the post where we meet Failure's friend, Fear.  The other F word.  Ugh.  Now that is a serious bully.  Talk about a 1-2 punch.  Blech.  Makes my stomach knot up just writing their names. 

Fear.  Go ahead.  Visualize what FEAR would look like if it was sitting next to you right this moment.  I bet you went to something ugly and dark and scary.  I get it.  It is fear, after all.  And that bugger is strong and unrelenting and sometimes (gulp) irrational.  Oh.  The horror of it all.

So Failure and Fear get together, team up into one crazy super villain and suddenly we're powerless to defend ourselves.  Or so it seems.  So.  It.  Seems.  And seems is the operative word.  F&F take up residence in our heads and mess 'em all up.  We don't think properly, we don't make sane decisions and we for darn sure don't let the spiraling out of control thoughts win.  Oh, wait.  We do.  Blech, I say.  Again.

If only we all had that Cher character in Moonstruck to slap us across the face and demand that we "snap out of it!"  And yes, I'm totally dredging up an eons-old movie reference there.  Deal.  But you agree, don't you?  Sometimes the best thing, the thing you need the most, is that kind of slap.  Maybe literally, too. 

I guess this post is sort of my own version of that slap.  No, I'm not slapping you--I'm slapping myself.  I've let Failure and Fear get way too cozy up in this brain 'o mine and it's time I tell them to get lost.  Beat it.  Scram.  Okay, now I'm going all 1950s here.  Scram?  Whatever---the point is, Fear & Failure need to pack up and go.  Fast.

The longer they stick around, the longer I see them as normal or familiar.  And Lord knows I don't want that.  I can't help myself when they're here and I sure as Sam can't help anyone else.  Mercy!  Now.  How does one evict Failure and Fear you might be asking.  Hell--I'm asking that, too. 

Thankfully, I went to church on Saturday and listened to Pastor talk about the loaves and fishes.  We've all heard the story.  But tonight's twist was less on the miracle of how so little fed so many, and more about the idea is that Jesus urged the Disciples to feed the people who had gathered.  "You do it," He commanded.  YOU do it.   Interesting.  It got me thinking about what I needed to do...not someone else, but me.  Myself.  I.  Taking action, making a difference.  Huh.

 

Back to this eviction process; it is up to YOU.  You have to be your own Cher, in a manner of speaking.  And if that seems too tough right away, let's crowd your head with so much other good stuff that Failure and Fear get all, "Peace out, Cub Scout."  Invite confidence (even if you have to fake it initially).  Invite happiness, success and experience.  Invite determination, dedication and ability.  Invite perseverance and a powerful driving force behind your goals and your actions.  Invite positive words, thoughts and people.  Invite a little patience, too, while you're at it.

I said that Failure isn't fatal.  And yet here I am, trying to get rid of it.  Confused?  Yeah, sorry about that.  See, the thing is, Failure may not be fatal, but if it's holding you back, that is pretty harmful.  So it needs to go, not because it's something we hope and pray we never encounter, but because it can, too often, handcuff us and prevent us from moving forward.

Alright, so you've invited all this other stuff, leaving little room for Failure and Fear.  You're taking a stand against this bully and you're looking at what can be rather than what can't be.  You're off to a great start.  Now what?

How about setting some new goals?  For me, the goals I set---and missed---are staring at me, taunting me with “You failllllllled, Amy.  You misssssssssed.”  And while trying and failing is infinitely better than not trying at all, maybe it’s time to try new things.  So I’m setting new goals.  And no, I’m not waiting for a new year or even a new month to start them (though the OCD part of my brain kind of wants to launch these goals on August 1).  I’m starting today.  Now.  With a small goal; read for 20 minutes before bed.  I can do that.  And the reading will be just as good for me as the feeling of accomplishment I’ll get from successfully completing the task.  And that will fuel me to do more, and more, and before you know it, I’ll be driving the Accomplishment Train and Fear & Failure will be growing smaller in the rear view mirror. 

That is, until they crop up again.  Because they will.  And all I can do when they do is read this post again, be smart and know that I’m stronger than my fears and that my failures alone won’t define me.