This is a follow up post to this one.
So there I was. The day I wrote this inspiring post about being strong, about seeing ourselves as we are. Where I told you, with big words, to be the immovable object and the unstoppable force. And on the same day, I got so scared and nervous at an inline skating course that I left after 10 minutes, barely holding myself together.
And on the way home, all I could think was that I didn't deserve to write about topics like this. That I, who haven't really figured anything out, don't have the right to speak of courage and motivation, and that I should go back to the hole I came out of and do the things I am actually capable of doing, which isn't a lot.
I would love to tell you that I made up my mind by the time I got home. That I realized it's not so bad. It's a small thing. I was overwhelmed, and that's okay.
Nope. I called someone who cares about me and knows me. They even said what a big step it was for me to even sign up and go. Nothing reached me. The only thing in my head was: I am a failure.
So. How did I get out of it?
I did not. Not really.
I can see that it's not a big deal, and that me not being strong sometimes does not mean that I have never shown strength in other situations. Like so many times, two things can be true at once.
I didn't post the post I am referring to that day. Only now, a few days later, do I feel okay enough to do it. And why?
Well, I did something else I didn't think I could manage: I went shopping for clothes by myself for the first time. In the women's section, obviously. And the world didn't end.
I steeled myself, put my headphones on blast, and just grabbed what I wanted, went to try it on, and even asked one of the workers if they had a skirt in stock in a specific color.
And oh heck, does my femme voice, which isn't too good in the first place yet, crack when I am nervous.
The world didn't end. No one called me out. The only thing that happened was me sweating bullets and ruining my makeup.
I managed.
How the heck did I manage?
I do NOT understand the dichotomy between not being able to be at a skating course, but managing to go shopping for women's clothing by myself.
Does it matter in the end?
It does, I think, but maybe not as much as it seems.
What I have decided to focus on now is not the stumble, and not the fall, but getting up again, and managing the next thing.
That's all there is to do.
Courage is not doing it every time, managing every time. Courage is just getting up, dusting yourself off, putting on a smile, and moving on.
I have a complicated relationship with my self-worth, and getting up after something like this takes an incredible amount of effort for me. But hey, the euphoria from finally picking the clothes off the racks that I have wanted all my life is a good compensation.
And that is a good lesson in itself: the joy of succeeding once can far outshine the sadness of failing many times before.
How many times have you practiced something until you finally managed it, and then realized it was the best feeling ever, and that the effort was worth it all along?
-- Cass