Papa Emerson strikes again. This man speaks to my core.
I'm thinking ... hmmmm ... not he's not just talking about success as in a vocation or career ... you know ... outward success. I think Papa is also saying that to be successful as a
person, I've got to have that self-trust. That's been a real sticking point for me over the years. I have one heck of a time trusting my own judgment. I second guess myself all the time, then beat myself up for the parts that were not successful.
For example, even in writing these words, in having the gumption to say to the world, "I'm sorta screwed up. My brain doesn't fire the way other folk's brains do. My brain chemistry is out of balance. I have to work all around my convoluted thinking to get to a logical conclusion. I have to work through all kinds of emotional turmoil and baggage in order to live more simply. I am not good at categorizing experiences and tucking them away in separate compartments in my brain. I'm not good at allowing my past to remain in my past. I keep dredging it up. I'm not good at letting resentments slide away. I get bitter. I'm not good at forgiveness. But I want to learn and change and continue to become a better, more whole and loving person."
Well, to put all that out here in Blogland ... to share my stories ... to open my fears to the light of day ... I don't know if it's gumption or foolishness. I second guess myself all the time.
What I do know is that the most compelling blogs I read are written by creative souls that dare to bare. I want to learn to be like that.
But I'm not sure I trust myself. I'm not sure I trust that this is good judgment.
Then I think ... well, I have fewer than ten regular blog readers ... this is not a huge deal ... not a big investment. Those that bother reading my blog tend to be sympathetic to my troubles and have similar stories of their own. The responses I receive are encouraging and empathetic.
In his last year of life, I asked my dad a question about trusting oneself once. Here's a bit of a story.
When Dad was 14, he lost both his sister (best friend) and his father. Dad was the oldest child. His mom was pregnant with his youngest brother. To help with the family finances, Dad went door to door selling Fuller brushes after school. I tried to imagine that life, but knew I really couldn't grasp how a young teenager could deal with so much disappointment and rejection -- especially in the midst of grief. So I asked, "How did you do that then? How do you do it now? How do you go about trusting your own judgment?"
He looked at me sort of incredulously, like the answer was so obvious that he didn't understand me asking the question. But he saw I was really looking for an answer. He said something like, "You just do it. You just try. When a door gets slammed in your face, you just get up and try the next one. What other choice do you have? The job needs to get done."
So practical.
A quality my dad valued highly was "moxie." To me, moxie is having the nerve to give something a try, to "act as if" you can succeed even if you're really not all that certain of your abilities, even if you're not quite comfortable inside your skin. It has a lot more to do with the
spirit of the attempt than of the result of the attempt.
Taking my cue from Dad, I try to live with moxie. I don't always succeed. Sometimes I'm just too afraid to try ... too afraid I'll mess up and either look foolish or get hurt or get laughed at or fail in some irreparable way. Yet I've learned that in most of life, if I can take a deep breath, put on a brave front, and give the task the old college try, I usually will get to the other side with a decent measure of success.
Doing that enough times is what will lead to true self trust. At least, I hope so.
Because between my ears and inside my skin, I want to be a success.
