A thought popped into my mind this morning as I climbed out of bed, or maybe it was as I stepped into the shower. In any instance, the thought slammed into me without notice. The idea that ‘achievement motivates me, and failure destroys me.’ As soon as I could see the words clearly, I rolled them around a few times – could it be true? Absolutely! Always, though I don’t think failure destroys me as much these days. I’d say more a constant current of disappointment.
Failure at this point in my life is less about trying and failing, and more about trying and succeeding. It’s in the success of a thing that anxiety hovers, waiting patiently to quietly consume all that is good. Lurking in murkiness and muck, eager to take root on the darkest of days. On the days when fatigue and pain steal motivation and focus, making way for fear and anxiety. Fear of failure and disappointing. The days when the weight of it all triggers danger in my trauma scarred mind, releasing a toxic cocktail of numbing solutions, followed by an unwanted dose of disconnect.
These days I’m left celebrating the small victories – making my bed, saying my prayers, doing the laundry, and exercising. I’m afforded the insight that seeking pleasure in the ins and outs of day-to-day life is the key to happiness. Failure to seek joy in all that is good, big or small, will leave me amiss in a sea of disappointment and destruction. A self-imposed masochistic nightmare of expectation. Resulting in a tragic downward spiral and all-out assault of all that I love.
Failure these days is a nagging voice in the dark recesses of my mind; continually flashing a list of neon decadence – Things TO DO. The constant flashing of all I cannot and will not accomplish in a day, let alone a lifetime. I reminder of all I’ll never be. A battle of who I was and who I thought I’d be, and me, whoever I may be, sitting helplessly in the middle. The sound and sight of pinks and greens crashing down day after day, leaving me encased in all that was or could have been.
Quietly picking up the pieces, restoring order before resetting the clock and resting my head. Every day a chance to accomplish a little more or just the same, but more importantly, to learn that failure is a self-imposed prison of ugliness and illusion. A prison with only one key, a key possessed by me.
Note to self: Failure is a matter of perspective; change your point of view, and seek success in the small things. Set yourself FREE!
Photo by Kristina V