FULL DISCLOSURE: This post might exceed my standard word count (or there might be a Part Two). I’m not a fan of this subject, but there’s so much that needs to be said.
Failure. That word is cringeworthy. It’s like saying Mufasa. (Sorry if that reference is lost on you. Go watch Lion King.) Most of my life has reflected an unhealthy relationship with that word. I can’t tell you where it began. I have no distinct memories that stand out. Maybe it was from watching “successful” parents. (Of course, that word has its own baggage as the world defines it.) Or could it have been that little country church I grew up in? (Legalism trumps grace most days.) I suppose it could’ve been an expectation I put on myself; so it’s just how God wired me. Regardless, it wasn’t good.
I’m not a psychologist. So clearly this is my uneducated self speaking here. But I feel pretty confident that there’s also a direct correlation to becoming a people pleaser. Any others raising their hands? I almost can’t differentiate.
As with anything else I write or speak about, my intention is to help someone else. In the wise words of Megan Brown (author of Know What You Signed Up For and Summoned), who by the way is MUCH younger than I am, “Your audience is a younger version of you”. Now I’ll be the first to admit that if I were you, I wouldn’t want to acknowledge being anything like me. But we can keep it a secret if you want. You just take whatever you can learn from and throw out the rest.
Whether it was making my bunk at camp, memorizing Bible verses, writing an essay, auditioning for something on stage, or simply listening to Ruth Cudworth pre-judge my 4-H projects, I defined anything less than winning as failure. Trying out for basketball and track in junior high was a gut-punch. I made the teams. Thanks to dad I have some natural ability. But I wasn’t quick enough, and I definitely wasn’t tall enough. At some point I decided cheerleading would be a good option. (In retrospect, I have no idea how I came to make that decision.) To summarize, let’s just chalk junior high up to figuring out what I would NOT be doing in high school.
My freshman year was a completely new canvas and I was ready. I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy. I don’t like lace and pink, purple, or any other pastel color is not hanging in my closet. Yuck! So when the opportunity to be a manager for the football and wrestling teams presented itself, I jumped. A few upper classmen who were friends welcomed me with open arms. I loved every single minute of it, and I learned about things I never would’ve otherwise. It was hard work at times. But I already knew the discipline of hard work. No problem.
A significant shift took place during my high school days. Dave Doyle, Marcia Blair, and Edna (Foster) Moster entered my life. The most intense one-on-one instruction was an incredible gift. When it comes to vocal knowledge Dave is unmatched. And
Marcia and Edna were the most amazing encouragers I could’ve asked for. I was fortunate enough to sing a solo with a symphony and as a sophomore I had the lead as Nellie Forbush in South Pacific. Opportunities of a lifetime to be sure. Yet, in the recesses of my mind (those dark corners) I still had myself convinced that if I made even the slightest error, it would be the end. No one would ask me to participate. There wouldn’t be future opportunities. Catastrophe. So despite the appearance of confidence on my face, inside I was making myself miserable. Sick.
In some ways I was leading two lives. I could be on stage for the evening and then I left to go drink, smoke, and party with all of my friends. It wasn’t sustainable.
It goes without saying that I wasn’t a perfect child. As the oldest of seven I knew which buttons to push. (Challenge accepted.) And as is evidenced by my party habits, I was willing to break the rules. But I still had this need to not fail and to make everyone happy. As I said earlier, this wouldn’t be sustainable. I was just about to experience my first significant failure. And I wasn’t prepared for my house to fall.
It appears that this may even require more than two parts. So I’ll wrap up part one by saying, “He will not leave you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).