Same sh*t, different day. Most of our thoughts today are the same as yesterday. Sometimes, I find a thought that’s even older than that- like, WAY old. So old that it’s boring to me now. It’s like when you reread the same paragraph repeatedly, but haven’t been paying attention.
Although I haven’t been paying attention, I’ve been rereading the same old story for so long about failure. The story goes like this: “Things come more easily for others than for you, so you have to ‘catch up’ to everyone else. You need to try harder to be just as good. You need to fail in order to succeed.” That last part is interesting because I have learned a lot about myself from “failing.” When I first applied to graduate school, I was rejected. I was distraught. I studied again and retook the GRE (hardly improved that score) and I applied to what felt like one billion other programs. I still got a lot of rejections, but I finally got into the right graduate program- the one that I really wanted but didn’t think was possible initially.
However, there was a major difference between the first time I applied and the second. The difference was not my GRE score, or grades, or credentials though. The difference was definitely not how I felt mentally either- I was super anxious both times. The major difference was that I got clear on what I wanted and decided I was going to go for it, even though I was afraid I’d fail or not be good enough. Really, the difference was going for what I wanted because I loved it, not because it felt safe.
Oddly enough, the old story of failure feels safe. Anxiety surrounding the possibility of rejection feels safe. I’m used to it. I’ve carried it for so long. I can’t imagine life without it. BUT, I’m bored of it! It’s old. It’s not my story of who I am anymore. It’s a story about who I thought I was in the past.
If I were to meet my anxiety and dialogue with that feisty, albeit fearful, inner critic, I would thank it. I’d thank it for trying to keep me safe for so long. I’d thank it for giving me an experience so opposite of freedom, that freedom now feels so good. I would tell my anxiety, “It’s not you. It’s me,” because the truth is that it hasn’t changed. I have.
