In a world full of so much devastation and disappointment, you'd think the thing I'd fear the most would be failure. But it's not. I fear success.
All my life I've been told I was "special"... "created differently" and "set apart by God for something really big."
All my life I assumed these were merely polite Christian sayings that adults bestowed on children for matters of self-esteem and truly embracing the lyrics of "Jesus Loves Me" so as not to lose the up and coming generation to peer pressure and self-destruction.
All my life, I was sold a lie.
I don't know who or what inferred these comments were sunshine up my metaphorical dress but I've lived a life in fear of success because I believed so much of the encouragement I received was thinner than air. And how can one build a foundation on that?
I learned to live within my means, below the ceiling but above the floor. I've stepped up the ladder a few inches but never reached the top on purpose.
If anything, time has been a sad and cheated lover who has put up graciously with my limitations and not complained a bit. However, floating is a terrible way to walk and I'm finally tired of tucking my wings under my jacket each morning.
I'm a sell-out. I've cheated God, I've cheated the world around me and I've cheated the ones who truly believed in me. In bits and pieces over time, I've touched my toes to the water to see what it would be like if I gave 100% of myself and each time was met with success. That scares me. Because if everything I touch turns to gold and everything I attempt I achieve, where does that leave the voice of the world? The one that says "Don't try. You might mess it all up." Who even owned that voice?
I'm always at my best when I'm far from home. I'm told by more people that I'm beautiful, given more business opportunities, I make more friends, even my hair shines brighter. Sadly, it's the "no one's gonna know" effect. The belief that I can give all of myself if no one's around to witness it later down the line. The Allie I save for others and keep tucked away with the Christmas decorations. The girl who only appears in a sparkly party dress once a year and when the clock strikes midnight, we kiss her and bid her goodnight.
Why should I not be that girl every day? What crime would I truly commit?
The fun and scary thing is, this is my year. This one was set aside specifically for me and if I give anything less than all of myself, I'm only hurting me. It's a heady thought.
I'm impulsive by nature. I move like a comet - unpredictable and perpetually on the move. I was never born to be a constant moon with steady eyes waiting to escape the sun's shadow. People "gaze" at the moon but they "watch" comets. That alone implies a life and vitality that isn't a common trait. No one told comets they're average. Why then am I?
As a part of a New Year's Resolution experiment, I decided to give myself heart and soul to this year. More devoted in love than Romeo and Juliet, more wild than Studio 54 and more life changing than a journey on the Mayflower.
This marks the beginning of week six.
Thus far, life has been perfect. It's a little terrifying.
I keep hearing this voice saying I am undeserving of high self-esteem, commendable beauty, successful careers and wild love.
But who is this voice? I've known it all my life and never stopped to ask its name.
Who says I don't deserve these things? More importantly, at what point did I wake up in a world that deems it a sin to be this happy and glorified humility to live content with underachieving self loathing misery? This is not the design of my Creator.
What would happen if someone told me I was meant to be a beauty queen rockstar and I believed them? What would happen if I tried?
We've only entered week six but already I am certain: This seat belt is not strong enough for the awesome wonder of this ride.
"Goodbye limitation,
Hello liberation,
Goodbye frustration,
Hello to living my life by my design,
Breaking these chains that bind my mind,
Learning to color outside the lines."
-Jana Stanfield
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