Fear of success. So many words have been dumped about that phobia. Books, podcasts, magazine articles. It’s real to many people. I get it.
Can’t say I relate
Fear of failure. I’ve walked with that. Heck, I’ve danced into the wee hours of the morning with it. As I get older and years of living are in my rear view mirror, failure just doesn’t overwhelm me. Maybe it’s because to fail – to do a major face plant with your arms flailing into the mud – means you must have thrown yourself passionately into a worthy endeavor. For a moment before the mud bath, your eyes were looking to the horizon with hope and your arms were stretched upward towards the heavens. That’s a beautiful thing. That’s a life of no regrets.
Fear of falling short. Now, that one gets me. Every day. It makes me pace back and forth, hands wringing – both literally and figuratively – what if I fall short of my dream? In my rear view mirror, I see a road littered with moments of falling short. Snapshots of distractions, daydreaming, husband, kids, work, church, family, friends, pets. I have used the tapestry of life as an excuse to suck back instead of pushing forward. It’s counterintuitive, really. Because in that tapestry are rich colors, intricate designs, and compelling textures that fuel the imagination and inspire the artist. It is meant to be wrapped around your heart and its warmth spark your mind to create. From that springs forth characters and story and new worlds – a story is born. And from there, maybe someday – after much toil and rejection that forms callouses on your ego – a book others find worth in, and then another, and another.…
Success would be a fall-on-my-knees-weeping-with-gratitude kind of awesome.
Failure would – I’m not gonna lie – break my heart, but at least there would be comfort in giving it my all.
Falling short would be the worst. Who wants to live a life defined by “I wish” and “If only”?
I don’t.
