Skip to main content

More ramblings on failure

I had an appointment with my shrink today. She asked how often I've failed at things. I honestly replied not often. I've made more than my share of mistakes but failing at a task? Not often.

However, I carry with me my Aunt Susie's voice every time I make a mistake. She's been dead several years and she was absent for many years of my life and yet i still hear smoker voice with a tilt of laughter saying "Crystal, everything you touch turns to shit." I can't remember when she first said it. I can't remember the context. What I remember is that I've always been hard on things. As I kid I blew through shoes, I still tear up shoes. I have to get new dishes every few years because mine break. A year or so ago I was doing lawn work and sliced the electrical cord and weed-wacked my own leg. I bought a new car last year and my front right bumper is totally scratched up. It's true, I'm hard on things. It's not true that everything I touch turns to shit. Every time I do something stupid and innocent, like driving to the wrong town for my hotel a few weeks back and discovering I had passed the hotel 30 miles before. I started to beat myself up with talk about being a dumb-ass when my daughter stopped me and helped me to laugh at myself. I'd never be so cruel to someone else and yet I do speak to myself that way.

One of the things I'm supposed to be doing for my mentor is creating a collage on fear and failure with cutouts from magazines. I started going through a pile of magazines today. I wasn't finding much inspiration or pictures that represent fear or failure to me. Then my view shifted. I realized  I'd been looking for the wrong things, I was being too literal. The more I flipped through the magazines the worse I felt about myself. I hated seeing the pictures of beautiful women, these beautiful seascapes and landscapes of places I'll likely never visit. Pictures of families hiking and having fun made me feel like I was wasting my life. I was judging myself, my family, my life on pictures in a magazine that is posed and created to sell items or tell me where to go on my dream vacation or how to organize and decorate my dream home. Rather than being inspired, it made me depressed to know I'd never spend $65 on a pair of jeans and I find it nearly impossible to envision myself in Cuba and that my bedroom will probably never be clean let alone perfectly decorated. I was judging myself, condemning myself, and wishing for a different life.

And yet, as I put the scissors and magazines away, I walked into my home (which is beyond what I ever imagined for myself) and my youngest was holding the kitten her sister rescued. My husband kissed my neck, my middle daughter petting my dog, and I realized that my life is good, my life is far more than good, far more than I ever imagined for myself. I am not a failure. I may or may not go to Cuba. I find it a point of honor not to spend $65 on a pair of jeans; I'm proud that my girls are not wrapped up in name brand clothing and consider thrift store shopping an adventure. I'd love to give my home a fresh splash of paint and do some decorating but I can do that a piece at a time. I want my home to be clean but not perfect...some days that's a huge struggle but I'm working on it. Our house is a house of love and laughter, that's far better than anything a magazine could offer.

New sets of dishes every few years is fun. I can replace my shoes. I live and love with passion and that may mean my things may not be gently worn but that is far from turning them to shit. Knowing my Aunt Susie, she probably said it with love and laughter never intending to hurt me and certainly not expecting it to stick.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Third-trimester Abortion

It's something I don't talk about much.

In the past I referred to it as a stillbirth. It was a stillbirth. But it was also an induced labor in my third trimester, hence making it a third-trimester abortion.

When I discovered I was pregnant I was only 16 years old. I'm pretty sure Christopher was conceived on the night my mom walked in on my boyfriend and I having sex on the couch. I thought she was going to be at work but she came home early. He ran out the door and I cried while my mother yelled profanities at me. It was a horrible night for all of us.

I wasn't smart enough to consider pretending I was on my period. After a few months my mom asked me if I was pregnant. She was right but I denied it just the same. Tim and I had talked about giving the baby up for adoption but we were scared out of our minds and decided I'd get an abortion. Another month or so passed, I hadn't gotten an abortion and I couldn't deny my pregnancy to my mom anymore. I told her …

Sleep Deprived Post

First of all, I am a sleeper. I can sleep through nearly anything.  I can still sleep until noon. As soon as my head hits the pillow I fall asleep. I can wake up and go back to sleep almost immediately. I'm a sleeper, it's what I do.

This morning I woke up around 2:30 or 3. I have not been able to go back to sleep! I've been yawning for hours, I've tried laying down and going back to sleep but it's not working. So here I am 2.5 hours later writing on my blog. I'm not sure I can be responsible for what I write in this sleep deprived state.

In about 5 hours I'll leave to pick up my eldest daughter and her BFF from college. Let's hope I don't sleep during the drive!  Okay, not really funny. I'll have to take a cue from my mom and pull over and take a nap when I get drowsy.

I think it was my junior year of high school and I was driving a boat of a car that looked a lot like this:
If possible, I think it was even longer and not as pretty but it was go…
It's been several years but here I am again.

I'm now in process to become an ordained pastor in the United Church of Christ!  It feels like I'm entering a period of renewal and getting back to my true roots and calling.

Thankfully I have a fabulous mentor for the process. She has given me homework. One thing is totally creative and not using words--only pictures to collage themes of fear and failure. The second piece is to journal about fear and failure. I've decided that it's highly unlikely that anyone actually reads this blog anymore since it's been inactive for years so it's as good as place as any to journal.  Plus I found a great community when I was actively blogging and my hope is to renew that community as well.

A few things for you to know, this year I broke my 40+ years of biting my nails!  This is HUGE and something I've tried to do most of life. Unfortunately, I have developed a new bad habit, I fiddle with my fingernails and often end up t…