“This is the start of something new.”
It is a phrase that should fill me with wonder and excitement, but I admit that I am fearful, too. I find myself at a crossroads, and I must remind myself that I am not the only one: everyone falls. Everyone fails. At times, anyone could give their best, and find out that their best is not enough.
On March 6, 2020, I resigned my job. It is more accurate to say that after months of honest effort to manage a caseload that had become greater and greater, with time restrictions that had grown more and more demanding… I was told that my best efforts were nonetheless unsuccessful at keeping up with the requirements of the position I held, and I was asked to step down.
In the days since then, I have had the time and opportunity to listen to the way my mind speaks. Self-Talk, it is called, and in the haze of the everyday it is often quiet. I am grateful that I have had the luxury of silence on my side, to put a voice to the welling discomfort within my chest.
“Maybe I’m just not good enough.”
The phrases run through my mind on repeat. I know myself well enough to sense it when it begins to plague me, and it is not what my conscious mind believes. But unconsciously, it is the echo of a lifetime of little failures attributed to not my efforts nor my skills, but simply…because of who I am.
I am inconsistent. I am found out. I am juggling so many things in my mind that I often cannot quiet it down. I am forgetful. I am inattentive to details. I don’t know what I’ve missed until I’m told I’ve missed it, and that often comes far too late.
I do my best to change it around: to depersonalize the experience into a reframe is not so based in shame. It is an active process and an ongoing one. But it is a choice I make.
To the voice that says, “I could have done more,” I tell myself, “I tried my best.”
To the voice that says, “This always happens,” I tell myself, “I’ve learned more this time. I understand myself better. Perhaps this had to happen to gain these experiences I will use for my future.”
To the voice that says, “I am bad,” I tell myself, “no. That’s not it. The circumstances did not fit me, and I did not fit them. And sometimes, it’s okay to not belong to a place that does not belong to me.”
Because the hardest part of failure is not the change. It is not the uncertainty of the future, and the worries of what unknowns it will bring.
The hardest part of failure is that part where it tries to confirm as true every terrible thing I’ve ever believed about me.
In these times, I choose to speak to myself as a friend. I lean upon the encouragement of those who love me, and I hold their words against me like floating rings in an open sea.
“I can do this.” “I am more than this moment in my life.” “It’s okay to be afraid.” “There is something better out there for me.”
That’s it.
Moment by moment, day by day.
I will speak gently, and I will make it through.