Afraid to Succeed

What if I fail?  What if it is hard? What if I am alone? What if no one loves me? What if I am always broken? What if I can’t find my way? What if I try and I ruin everything? What if no one sees my efforts? What if everything I do is for nothing? What if I succeed?

It often seems that just when we think we have life all figured out, something changes. And change is scary. For the most part, we are all comfortable where we are—because where we are now is familiar. Even if that place is toxic or abusive, it can still feel scary for something to change.  Failure is daunting, but in many of us—so is success.

So I ask you this one question: WHY are we afraid to change? Why are we afraid of the unexpected? Why do we panic when things don’t go our way—or feel insignificant and unworthy when they do?

Because stepping outside of what is familiar means letting go of our plan. And for most of us, that means we think we did something wrong—or something wrong was done to us. And many times when we succeed we still have doubts on if we deserved or can handle what comes next. 

So today I want to present a new thought. How can we become comfortable with living with the unexpected? How can we still find joy when our plans change? 

We must live with intention. How you ask? How can we live intentionally in a life that is constantly changing what we have planned? Here are some ideas . . .

We have to lose our expectations.

Too often we mistake what should be—or will be—with what we think has to be. We set unrealistic expectations for the people in our life, and for ourselves. And these expectations will almost always fail us. Because just like our life plan, when we expect a desired outcome out of someone else, they—more often than not—will not respond the same in real life as we had pictured them doing in our mind.

For example: Lets say today I spend all day doing the laundry and cleaning my house to show my family that they are loved, and have this image in my mind that when they walk in the door they are going to celebrate the efforts and time I put into a clean house . . . they are going to be loving and helpful and give me that same love in return. My thought is this—because I have made an effort and sacrifice in my love for my family—they sure as heck better come in with smiles and complements . . . or else all my efforts will feel like they were in vain. So I know how my love should be received and how I will receive love in return. Plan set. Ready go.

So with that expectation set in my mind, let me tell you how this kind of day really goes down . . .

I bust my butt all day. Laundry. Dishes. Beds. Toilets. Carpet. Dog poo. Water the bunny. Feed the fish.  Vacuum. Scrub. Mop. Plunge. Organize. Dust. Scour. Wipe. Sweep.

The house is shinning when the first child walks in the door. He is frustrated with the lunch selection that came from a pot of leftovers. Annoying, but we work it out. Homework. Art project. The twins are home before we know it. Remember they have homework to do. Fighting about who will use the computer first—mom is referee. Elementary kids get home. More homework. After school snacks. Breaking up small battles about Pokemon cards. Packing lunches for tomorrow. Cleaning up snacks. Soccer. Dance. Basketball. Scouts. Voice lessons. Home again. Send kids up to shower. Just then husband walks in the door from his own long day. “Hey baby. You look cute in those sweats. What’s for dinner?”

Dinner . . . I never forget about dinner. But I just did. Time freezes for a few seconds as I look around the house, hoping so desperately that he will notice all the things I did do that day. Knowing that his approval of them will help me feel important and loved.  I look around the kitchen, then over to the family room. Chaos. Messes everywhere. You would never in a million years guess that cleaning had been any part of my day. Not one square inch of the house looks like it had been touched in weeks. My heart sinks. Everything I had done to show my husband and kids that they were loved—was a waste. Nothing to show for it. Irritated . . . and hungry. Longing for just one of them to see my efforts.

Sometimes in this moment with my expectations so defeated, I have snapped back with a, “Dinner? Are you kidding me . . . do you not see everything I had to do today?” and then go about listing all the errands run and cleaning achieved. Other times I have silently—with an internal pity party, that no one had noticed my sacrifices—started heating up a can of soup. All the while feeling defeated, unloved, unappreciated, and invisible. Waiting around for someone to tell me that what I did that day was seen. As if that simple acknowledgment was my lifeline.

This is what I mean by living with expectations. And it can happen in literally every setting and any interaction we have with ourselves, or another person. Even simple things, like letting someone merge in front of us . . . expecting a wave or an acknowledgment of our kindness, can lead us to having a horrible day. Doing an extra project at work, and believing that our boss will notice and praise—is an expectation that will most likely lose.

Living with expectations sets us up to fail—because it puts power into a plan—our plan.

So how do we live intentionally, so that our own expectations do not become our very demise? How do we live so that we act and not react to life?

First off, we have to see others. Stepping outside ourselves does not take any expectations. Because when we are truly open to helping and loving another person, we don’t do it for ourselves. We do it for them.

If what I want to gain from scrubbing floors and cleaning up crap is a stroke to my mommy ego . . . then I am not serving my family—I am serving myself.  To live intentionally we have to do this life on purpose. Living with purpose does not require our own plan—but it does take a lot of faith.

The days don’t change much—the ones we live with intention—but our fears do. Fear of being unseen, fear of being invisible and forgotten . . . those are what drive us to live for ourselves. But the love of another person, that is what empowers us to live for them. We act, instead of react to the environments we are placed in.

Sacrifices made become less of a need to be acknowledged and more of an acknowledgment of another person’s needs. 

We cannot set out to serve, expecting anything in return. God sees our efforts. He sees the love we have given, and understands how hard it is when we feel we haven’t received it back. We have to turn to Him for that approval—ask Him what is next in His plan.

I can promise you—you will fail, but even more—you will succeed. Both of these can be scary in their own way, because in both, things will change. Change means we are growing. Some changes are hard. Some are exciting. But to become the refined and beautiful person we must become—we first have to live with intention instead of expectation. Success and failure will begin to be gaged on how we treat others instead of how we are treated.

With a purpose of living for God, we can serve others . . . even those who do not see us. We can love, even those who do not love us back. And we can use our words and our actions with clarity instead of fear.

He sees you. He honors you. He respects you. Do it all for Him. Then at the end of the day . . . thank Him for the blessing it was to serve . . . and to love on purpose. Our lives were meant to be lived with faith and intention, directed by His plan.

Don’t be afraid of failure—it will make you stronger. But even more, don’t be afraid to succeed. It is why you are here. To find your purpose in His plan, and your worth in His love for you. 

You are enough. Today, yesterday . . . and for every tomorrow to come.

So what are you afraid of? What is it costing you? How would your life be different without it? What is your first step to achieving it?

He already has

Don't I deserve . . .

I remember the first time someone asked me, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I boldly proclaimed, “I want to be a mom!”

Sometimes the answer included an ice skater, or a ballerina. Sometimes I thought I wanted to be a teacher or a photographer, but above all I really just wanted to become a mother.

It has been my dream since I was a little girl. Then why—some days— is it so hard? Why somedays do I believe the lies that I deserve more? I think the answer to that question boils down to three little words.

#1. Selfishness

Some days I have lists longer than hours to do them. I want to feel accomplished so I put my sense of worth in the amount of check marks on my list at the end of the day. This desire—although worthy of many causes—can be impeding on some of the important things that didn’t make the list.

And usually for us parents, the easiest thing to avoid is spending quality time with our children. They are entertained by electronics while we research “important” things online. They watch hours of TV while we exercise and obsessively clean the house. They play alone so we can make a few more phone calls. They don’t see us all day, so we can get those extra hours in at the office. They get forgotten and replaced by so many other priorities—because we are selfish.

#2. Fear. Fear is paralyzing. We hide behind it and from it. Sometimes we avoid parenting for fear we will screw up; other times we “over parent” our children to compensate for our fear that they will.

Fear is constantly triggered by trauma. (On this blog we are going to define trauma as a moment when life didn’t go according to our plan—and so acknowledging that everyone has been through some sort of trauma). So as we battle our own insecurities, mixed with traumas from the past it begins to get harder and harder to break out of the fog of fear. So we are scared of what was, and what could be . . . and we forget to live what really is.

Trauma is a tool used to make us believe that life will never be “normal”. It is a lie that aches inside of us trying to get us to believe we will always be broken from it. Parent’s—these are lies we have to smoke out. We have to change them to truths if we truly want to be able to become the moms and dads we always dreamed we would be.

We have all been through hard things, and worry our children will suffer through traumas of their owns. And guess what? They will. But we have to have faith that they are strong. We have to start to believe that we are doing something right that will help them have the tools they need to battle all their wars. And even more, we have to realize that the more we spend time avoiding the hard stuff out of fear—the more we are missing what really matters.

#3. Expectations. I have always been a planner. I get these ideas in my head about the way things are supposed to be. And most of the time I am right (clearly . . . ) Just kidding, but really. In my mind, if people would just do and say and be what I had planned for them, their lives would be so much easier . . . and then we could all be happy.

I wish I could say this was an exaggeration, but it really is a problem. I get stuck on my plans, and have a hard time allowing others to figure things out “the hard way”—which ironically can be defined as anything not going according to what I think it should.

I have ideas. They seem so simple individually, but if I were to make a list, you might understand how incredibly insane are the expectations that roll around in my head.

Ok, lets give it a try . . .

I want my kids to: behave, respect, obey, be kind, get good grades, be praised by their teachers, get along with everyone, fit in, excel, be honest, be virtuous, perform, be organized, be clean, be observant, be empathetic, be helpful, be understanding, share, express feelings, be happy all day, take long naps, sleep in, go to bed early, be calm, have healthy perfect bodies, honor, pretend, be accountable, be creative, be clean, have fun, take life seriously, be spontaneous, plan ahead, be daring, be safe, and carefree.

I am a walking contradiction. I want perfection, but I want them to just be kids. I want them to have fun, but I want them to take me seriously. I have these grand expectations that my children will become perfect . . . and once they do—that is when parenting will become easy.

Expectations are what fail us—not people.

What if I just expected my family to be human? Would it be easier to love them if I just made a plan in my head that they might mess up? Would I better be able to step up to the challenge when I received a negative email from a teacher if I lowered my expectations of their perfection? If I saw their imperfections as reminders of their need for love, instead of flaws . . . would I better be able to be God’s hand in their life?

So lets ask ourselves: Is our fear, selfishness, or our expectations of what should be, stopping us from being who we really could be? Are we putting our spouse and children at the bottom of our priority lists? Is that really where they should be?

I can tell you this much . . . for all the times we personally have thought that we deserve so much more—maybe we should have been saying it about all the people who have patiently felt that about us.

Does your family deserve more of you? . . . then what are you going to do about it?

I know for a fact mine do. So, I am sure not supposing that I can drop all other responsibilities and activities that I have in my life. What I am proposing is that we find ways to make our children (and our spouses for that matter) part of them. And not an idealistic version of what we want them to become—them . . . the way they are now. 

When they are on our priority list, we will better be able to enjoy taking care of them. We will began to forget about the times that they felt like a burden, and see the joy that they bring. Joy doesn’t come when the destination of normalcy is reached. It comes when we realize that we will no longer leave room for selfishness, fear, and expectations.

We can chose to take a stand against these lies in our lives. Once we do, the dreams we had long ago about a distant “perfect” family can be reached. Not because anything around us will change, but because we will.

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