I’m fond of quotes. Of reading new information and finding that nugget that feels like home. The words express a thought you’ve had before, but could never articulate. Or, in my most recent experience, a thought or concept that has you saying, “ah-ha! that’s me!” 

 

 

I’m currently reading a book about finding your ideal career (when you’re feeling stuck). It centers around common fears people have of committing to, and doing, what they love. It’s called I Could Do Anything if I Only Knew What it Was, by Barbara Sher and in one of the chapters, she discusses how some people avoid making a commitment to pursuing a skill or interest, because they’ve never learned how to learn. They’ll start something, catch on quickly, but then as soon as it gets hard, get frustrated, convince themselves they’re no good at it, and quit. Reading this intrigued me. I have quit many things that interest me: swimming, ballet, geometry, advanced math classes (never even attempted physics or calculus in high school since I figured it’d be way over my head), speed training on a track, biking up Olde Stage Road, writing, painting, singing, playing the violin, learning a foreign language… my list goes on. And on. She writes:

“Always feeling like amateurs, but sensing their considerable talent, these people are caught in a nightmare of self-evaluation: Am I a genius or am I a fool? That seesaw thinking is a painful mistake people make when they haven’t worked enough.” 

This line of thinking is achingly familiar to me. There are so many things I believe I might be good at, or could be good at, but I’m petrified to even contemplate trying even one thing. I haven’t pursued anything very seriously. I haven’t mastered anything. Writing is a perfect example and one of the reasons I’m so elated that I’ve begun this blog. It’s a beginning for me. It’s an gentle step forward into the unknown… into a realm of living that I’ve dreamed of, but have yet to realize. I am petrified of finding out that I’m a fraud. I have to be honest with myself and, regardless of how rational or irrational it may be, admit that I’m afraid people will find out I’m not smart, or talented, or very creative at all.

I learned about 8 years ago how perseverance works in the physical realm. Running a continuous mile for the first time in my life at the age of 26 was a defining moment in my life. I could do it! But then it got hard, and I thought to myself, “I don’t even really enjoy running.” But alas, I’d already signed up for a 5K race with a friend, so I was stuck. I had promised to run with her and I wasn’t about to back out. Something told me to keep moving forward. So I set up a schedule and I trained. 

And I learned something that year. I loved it. Deep, emotional, ecstatic love for the training. Not the race. Not the running. (It was actually a few more years before I fell in love with the running itself.) It was the training I loved. The hard work. The sweat. The challenge. I thrived. And you know what? I was average. My time was average. And I felt strong. And there it was. My life had begun to shift. And it continued to shift in ways I never imagined, or had even perceived at the time I completed that first mile.

It was a valuable lesson. But one that, apparently, didn’t translate very well to my mental ability to learn and persevere. Reading the chapter today felt like a hammer hitting the top of my head. A big sledgehammer. Just yesterday I was in tears because I was feeling stupid for not being able to do one task on my ‘to-do’ list that involved learning something new. I’d procrastinated for over a month doing it. And just couldn’t ‘get it’ when my deadline was approaching and I finally sat down to figure it out. I didn’t know how to approach it and learn about it. And I didn’t know how to be patient with myself. 

So what does this mean? Where do I go from here? It means that I need to learn how to learn. It means I will be patient with myself and have compassion for myself when my frustration and fears overwhelm me. It means I will set a few goals and stick to them–regardless of the pain and suffering and defeat I might feel at the time. I will persevere through the beginning stages and have faith (and trust) that I’ll move into a new realm of mastery and confidence with time. 

This blog is my first commitment (of hopefully many) to that goal. To keep writing. To keep learning. To weather the struggles and temptations to quit I know I will experience. To see the struggles as a sign of progress and validation that I am getting better.

I am inspired by one of my favorite lines from Walt Whitman: “A foot and lighthearted, I take to the open road.” The road is ahead of me, full of wonder and experience and moments of discovery. I take another step.