Trying to Sail Through Failure..

The scariest part of my day today was hitting the "New Post" button on Blogger.

For months I have felt the need to write, and I have even come up with great things to write about (usually in the middle of the night while I should be sleeping or while I'm driving... neither of which are opportune times to write).

So when I can write..when I have time to... I can't.

The words don't come, the inspiration isn't there, the fear is absolutely crippling.

Writing was something I did.

It was who I was.

When I was single, and lived alone, and was in the midst of changing jobs and needed an outlet.

Then I got busy. My life got insane, I needed a quiet place within myself to figure out who I was within a new job, within a new relationship, and without writing...

because honestly, that was all I really knew then.

And everyone kept saying... "you should write again."

But what if I couldn't? What if I can't?

What if I was just the single girl writer for the moment?

What if that's all anyone really cared about reading anyways?

Failure.

I guess that's what we all fear deep down.

I recently went through a job change where I had to face the fact that I wasn't cut out for the particular position. I spent four years in college prepping for this job, two years after that waiting for it, and then a year and a half in it, and had to just admit that I couldn't do it.

I had failed.

And I had to be okay with that.

It wasn't all me.

But some of it was.

That's a big burden to bear.

Even being in a new job now... its hard to accept that I didn't do what I said I was going to do. That I failed.

It's even harder to accept some days that I don't write like I wanted to. I haven't kept up with it.

But I think taking in the failure makes you realize what you want and who you are.

It makes you realize what you had, what you're good at it, who you can be just as much as you aren't, who you don't want to be, and what you won't settle for.

I failed at being the girl who can have a career and write on the side and have a relationship and a family and the perfect life.

And I'm perfectly okay with that.

More than okay really.

That means I can stop trying.

Failure brings a freedom that I don't think we put enough emphasis on.

It's painful. It's hard. It will leave scars. I'm not saying it won't.

I have them. It will take time for me to get over them. That's just the way they work. It takes God time to smooth them over and eclipse them with His love. (and I thank Him every day He does that for me)

But think about it...

So you didn't pass that test... maybe you get a chance to retry and get your dream job a little later down the road?

You burnt the dinner you wanted to prepare for your special someone and you ended up having to get a pizza.... it gives you a great story you can laugh about together and a memory that you will cherish for years to come.

You lost a job... it gives you a chance to dig deep into something you love, find something you never knew you'd love, or even find that dream job. Heck, take a job that lets you meet ends and go back to school.

You messed up with a friend. Forgive yourself. Move forward.

Failure isn't the end all be all. Some days it feels like we are sailing along in a storm and we will never hit shore. And all we keep doing is poking holes in the bottom of the boat to allow water to run in faster. But when we finally do find land, recovery can begin.

We can make adjustments to the boat, learn from what happened on the waves, and vow to keep sailing.

Jesus came to forgive us. So we have to forgive ourselves.

I don't know about you, but that is the hardest part to me.

I fail.

I know God forgave me because His grace abounds. But for some reason... I just can't forgive myself.

But I can keep sailing. I can keep trying to forgive myself daily with His help and the help of my loved ones.

And I can seek new opportunities to grow, get back to things I love, cook a little more, and grow my relationships.

So maybe failure isn't so bad.

When we don't let it become our anchor to keep us from sailing.