Jan 17, 2017
OK, it's probably a little geeky of me, but it just seems fun to write "1-17-17".
But on to more important stuff. I've been getting nudged lately. I don't know if you can relate, but I think God gives me nudges from time to time. Little hints, little messages, little interactions with people or conversations where it seems to me that I'm getting the same message over and over, from totally different sources. Over the years I've noticed one thing repeatedly about these messages...if I try to ignore them or push them aside, they keep coming back, each time a bit more "insistent". For me, a bell-weather of having a good idea whether or not the message is coming from God or not is a feeling I have that "I don't wanna do it". Yes, usually in that petulant, 5-year-old voice. Whenever I catch myself thinking that (or sometimes even saying it out loud), that is usually a strong indicator that I need to look much harder at whatever "it" is, and what my motivation (or usually, de-motivation) is for why I don't want to do whatever "it" is.
The latest one? Writing.
Seriously. I know, I like to write. Well...at least I like to talk. Or at least I like to bring voice to the ideas, concepts, thoughts, etc., rolling around in my brain. Since not everyone likes to hear my speak about that stuff, I like to write it down. It gets it out. It helps me "see" what I'm thinking, and helps me to put structure around it. It helps me bring some solidity to my thoughts and my ideas.
My wife suggested that I might need to "journal". Sorry, but that word simply has a negative connotation to me. It seems like "forced fun" to me. The only times I've actually "journaled" were when I was forced to, either for a class or a workshop or something. And it always seemed forced. It never seemed like me just writing down what was really going on in my head, because I was certain someone was going to look at it, judge it, and by extension, judge me.
And I think that boils it down to why I tend to procrastinate on a lot of things. If i don't ever actually do something, I won't be judged for it.
Fear of success and fear of failure are the two greatest things that hold back human growth and potential. I'm sure somebody famous said that, or at least something similar. I know I didn't make it up.
This is something I've seen, I think, in my daughter. She really is a very talented musician. She writes beautiful music, she sings wonderfully, she can play just about anything she touches, and she has an uncanny ability to feel and express through music. When she was in high school, I was convinced she needed to go into performance -- Christian contemporary music. Or maybe writing. But I think she got scared. I think she was afraid people wouldn't like her as a musician/professional, and I think she was afraid that would reflect as them not liking "her". I tried to talk her out of this whole concept, but I don't think she saw it that way, and I don't think I did a very good job of explaining what I was seeing.
As usual, God has a better plan than any of us, and she ended up becoming what she is today...a middle school choral director. And she is amazing at it!
But that past couple of weeks of me getting "nudged" to write again has helped me see and somewhat wrap my hands around that whole "fear of success/fear of failure" thing. Not only as it applied to my daughter, but as it applies to me.
When I was in elementary school, I think I was relatively fearless. I was convinced of my own ability to do just about anything, and so I lived my life that way. I was a straight-A student in school, I worked hard at being a good musician, and I really enjoyed life. But then 6th grade came along, we moved to another part of town, I was in a different school with kids I didn't know, and I had a teacher who not only didn't celebrate the diversity of his students, he seemed to enjoy publicly humiliating them. I remember being teased, by him, in front of the class, many times. I can't remember what it was about, but I think it was either some remark or observation or answer I gave in class. I simply don't remember, because it is too painful to recall. I do remember my grades taking a dive almost immediately. I had never been kept after school before, for any reason. But in 6th grade, I was almost always being kept after school because I didn't have my homework done, or I had done poorly on an assignment, or something. I recall one period of time where I was required to stay after school for 30 minutes every day, or until my homework for the next day was done. So it was 30 minutes every day. Except one day, I actually finished my homework about 15 minutes after class was dismissed, so I gathered my stuff and headed to my locker. The teacher saw me in the hallway and asked me what I was doing. I smiled and said proudly, "I finished all my homework!". He glared at me and called me a "little sneak". I was reprimanded for doing the right thing -- what I had been instructed to do.
Junior High wasn't a whole lot better. I didn't fit in with the "cool kids". I was a whiz at music, but I struggled in many of the other classes. I kept my grades mostly up, because my parents insisted on it, but I tried not to "excel", so that others wouldn't notice me, and pick on me, like they did some of the other "smart kids".
I tried out for the sports teams, because that's what you did. I sucked at all of them. I was too small (and timid) to do well at football, I didn't have the hand-eye coordination to do well at basketball, and I simply don't run very fast, so was at the bottom of the heap in track. So the things I thought it was important to be good at, I wasn't good at. And the things that nobody else thought were important to be good at, I excelled at. So I tried to hide my skills/talents, and desperately wanted to be liked. By just about anybody. And I tried to hide. I would regularly get beat up by other kids as we were coming out of the music room. It was down a corridor and around a corner. When we would leave class, 3 or 4 of the guys would wait for me, and pound on me as I was leaving the class. That only stopped when the music teacher happened to come out of the classroom right after me one day, and they all got in trouble.
Of course, then they just took other opportunities to beat on me, because it was obviously my fault they got caught and got in trouble.
This sort of thing even happened in my youth group at church. There was one boy in particular who thought it fun to punch me in the shoulder as hard as he could as many times as it would take to get me to cry. Since I was in junior high, and boys aren't supposed to ever cry in junior high, I would end up with a very sore and very bruised shoulder. I just didn't understand how this could happen in my youth group at church, with a boy I'd known since we were 4 or 5 years old. Was I that worthless?
Finally, one day I got angry. Angry enough to hit him back. It surprised him, and while he continued to mouth off to me, he did stop hitting me. That was a kind of epiphany for me at that moment. I think it was the end of my 9th grade year, or maybe even the summer between 9th and 10th grade. I don't remember for sure. Only thing I recall is that when I went into high school in 10th grade, I went in with a chip on my shoulder. Anger had become my shield. Whenever somebody tried to slip into the old model of bullying me, I would let my anger come out...not a slow, seething anger, but a full-on blowtorch anger. And it scared some people. And at that age, I couldn't differentiate between fear/avoidance and respect. And all through high school, I struggled with that. Trying to balance my fears, my insecurities, my anger, my abilities, my desire to learn...and my desire to simply be accepted.
So, dear reader...not my usual inspirational, motivational deep-learning introspection today. Just some of me writing about me to better understand me.
As my lovely bride told me last night, she is happy with me, because I do "me" better than anyone else ever can, and she is in love with "me".
Perhaps that's the lesson I am to learn. Does thinking about those growing-up years cause me stress and frustration? Yes, it does. I am frustrated by the missed opportunities, the missed connections, the missed growth. All my life I've struggled with acceptance. Yes, it's mostly been self-acceptance, but what drives that is my fear that I will not be accepted by others, and what others think of me has always been important.
I can't say I've reached a point of acceptance. Some days, I have. Some days, I really can sit here and say, "I am a loved and blessed child of God," and be quite content in that. Other days, I unfortunately do ask myself, "but what would people think?"
I'm working on it. That, dear reader, is the journey. Not a destination, but a journey. It's a journey I've been afraid to really focus on. Until now. No, let me rephrase. I'm STILL afraid of the journey. But God is my strength and my shield. Of whom, then, shall I be afraid?
My two cents worth today.
But on to more important stuff. I've been getting nudged lately. I don't know if you can relate, but I think God gives me nudges from time to time. Little hints, little messages, little interactions with people or conversations where it seems to me that I'm getting the same message over and over, from totally different sources. Over the years I've noticed one thing repeatedly about these messages...if I try to ignore them or push them aside, they keep coming back, each time a bit more "insistent". For me, a bell-weather of having a good idea whether or not the message is coming from God or not is a feeling I have that "I don't wanna do it". Yes, usually in that petulant, 5-year-old voice. Whenever I catch myself thinking that (or sometimes even saying it out loud), that is usually a strong indicator that I need to look much harder at whatever "it" is, and what my motivation (or usually, de-motivation) is for why I don't want to do whatever "it" is.
The latest one? Writing.
Seriously. I know, I like to write. Well...at least I like to talk. Or at least I like to bring voice to the ideas, concepts, thoughts, etc., rolling around in my brain. Since not everyone likes to hear my speak about that stuff, I like to write it down. It gets it out. It helps me "see" what I'm thinking, and helps me to put structure around it. It helps me bring some solidity to my thoughts and my ideas.
My wife suggested that I might need to "journal". Sorry, but that word simply has a negative connotation to me. It seems like "forced fun" to me. The only times I've actually "journaled" were when I was forced to, either for a class or a workshop or something. And it always seemed forced. It never seemed like me just writing down what was really going on in my head, because I was certain someone was going to look at it, judge it, and by extension, judge me.
And I think that boils it down to why I tend to procrastinate on a lot of things. If i don't ever actually do something, I won't be judged for it.
Fear of success and fear of failure are the two greatest things that hold back human growth and potential. I'm sure somebody famous said that, or at least something similar. I know I didn't make it up.
This is something I've seen, I think, in my daughter. She really is a very talented musician. She writes beautiful music, she sings wonderfully, she can play just about anything she touches, and she has an uncanny ability to feel and express through music. When she was in high school, I was convinced she needed to go into performance -- Christian contemporary music. Or maybe writing. But I think she got scared. I think she was afraid people wouldn't like her as a musician/professional, and I think she was afraid that would reflect as them not liking "her". I tried to talk her out of this whole concept, but I don't think she saw it that way, and I don't think I did a very good job of explaining what I was seeing.
As usual, God has a better plan than any of us, and she ended up becoming what she is today...a middle school choral director. And she is amazing at it!
But that past couple of weeks of me getting "nudged" to write again has helped me see and somewhat wrap my hands around that whole "fear of success/fear of failure" thing. Not only as it applied to my daughter, but as it applies to me.
When I was in elementary school, I think I was relatively fearless. I was convinced of my own ability to do just about anything, and so I lived my life that way. I was a straight-A student in school, I worked hard at being a good musician, and I really enjoyed life. But then 6th grade came along, we moved to another part of town, I was in a different school with kids I didn't know, and I had a teacher who not only didn't celebrate the diversity of his students, he seemed to enjoy publicly humiliating them. I remember being teased, by him, in front of the class, many times. I can't remember what it was about, but I think it was either some remark or observation or answer I gave in class. I simply don't remember, because it is too painful to recall. I do remember my grades taking a dive almost immediately. I had never been kept after school before, for any reason. But in 6th grade, I was almost always being kept after school because I didn't have my homework done, or I had done poorly on an assignment, or something. I recall one period of time where I was required to stay after school for 30 minutes every day, or until my homework for the next day was done. So it was 30 minutes every day. Except one day, I actually finished my homework about 15 minutes after class was dismissed, so I gathered my stuff and headed to my locker. The teacher saw me in the hallway and asked me what I was doing. I smiled and said proudly, "I finished all my homework!". He glared at me and called me a "little sneak". I was reprimanded for doing the right thing -- what I had been instructed to do.
Junior High wasn't a whole lot better. I didn't fit in with the "cool kids". I was a whiz at music, but I struggled in many of the other classes. I kept my grades mostly up, because my parents insisted on it, but I tried not to "excel", so that others wouldn't notice me, and pick on me, like they did some of the other "smart kids".
I tried out for the sports teams, because that's what you did. I sucked at all of them. I was too small (and timid) to do well at football, I didn't have the hand-eye coordination to do well at basketball, and I simply don't run very fast, so was at the bottom of the heap in track. So the things I thought it was important to be good at, I wasn't good at. And the things that nobody else thought were important to be good at, I excelled at. So I tried to hide my skills/talents, and desperately wanted to be liked. By just about anybody. And I tried to hide. I would regularly get beat up by other kids as we were coming out of the music room. It was down a corridor and around a corner. When we would leave class, 3 or 4 of the guys would wait for me, and pound on me as I was leaving the class. That only stopped when the music teacher happened to come out of the classroom right after me one day, and they all got in trouble.
Of course, then they just took other opportunities to beat on me, because it was obviously my fault they got caught and got in trouble.
This sort of thing even happened in my youth group at church. There was one boy in particular who thought it fun to punch me in the shoulder as hard as he could as many times as it would take to get me to cry. Since I was in junior high, and boys aren't supposed to ever cry in junior high, I would end up with a very sore and very bruised shoulder. I just didn't understand how this could happen in my youth group at church, with a boy I'd known since we were 4 or 5 years old. Was I that worthless?
Finally, one day I got angry. Angry enough to hit him back. It surprised him, and while he continued to mouth off to me, he did stop hitting me. That was a kind of epiphany for me at that moment. I think it was the end of my 9th grade year, or maybe even the summer between 9th and 10th grade. I don't remember for sure. Only thing I recall is that when I went into high school in 10th grade, I went in with a chip on my shoulder. Anger had become my shield. Whenever somebody tried to slip into the old model of bullying me, I would let my anger come out...not a slow, seething anger, but a full-on blowtorch anger. And it scared some people. And at that age, I couldn't differentiate between fear/avoidance and respect. And all through high school, I struggled with that. Trying to balance my fears, my insecurities, my anger, my abilities, my desire to learn...and my desire to simply be accepted.
So, dear reader...not my usual inspirational, motivational deep-learning introspection today. Just some of me writing about me to better understand me.
As my lovely bride told me last night, she is happy with me, because I do "me" better than anyone else ever can, and she is in love with "me".
Perhaps that's the lesson I am to learn. Does thinking about those growing-up years cause me stress and frustration? Yes, it does. I am frustrated by the missed opportunities, the missed connections, the missed growth. All my life I've struggled with acceptance. Yes, it's mostly been self-acceptance, but what drives that is my fear that I will not be accepted by others, and what others think of me has always been important.
I can't say I've reached a point of acceptance. Some days, I have. Some days, I really can sit here and say, "I am a loved and blessed child of God," and be quite content in that. Other days, I unfortunately do ask myself, "but what would people think?"
I'm working on it. That, dear reader, is the journey. Not a destination, but a journey. It's a journey I've been afraid to really focus on. Until now. No, let me rephrase. I'm STILL afraid of the journey. But God is my strength and my shield. Of whom, then, shall I be afraid?
My two cents worth today.
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