I can’t dream. I cannot allow myself to want to go white water rafting, or own a porch swing, or write a book, or get married, or cook an actual [appetizing] meal, or own a boat, or ride in a hot air balloon, or even have a kid or two.
I can’t dream because if I dream, I might fail, and if I fail, my dreams die, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly giddy about a life full of regret. Sometimes it’s just easier not to dream. Does it make any sense? Not in the slightest! *cue the straight jacket* I know it’s more logical to dream and fulfill some of them then not see any of them come true, but…
I can’t try new things. I cannot get out of my comfort zone, or heck, my ability zone, and try something that I may not be that great at. I’m not able to take a giant leap of faith over the valley up ahead because I can’t seem to work up enough guts to jump over the crack in the sidewalk right in front of me.
I can’t try new things because if I try new things, I might fail, and if I fail, then I have to admit to myself [and to everyone else] that I’m not so good at some things, (surprise!!!) and I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that. I expect myself to get it right, to do it perfectly, and to do it quickly the very first time. I know I’ll never be able to live up to this unreasonable standard, so I don’t even try. I guess it’s just easier that way. So…
I can’t love myself. I cannot look myself in the mirror and think, “wow, well aren’t you a fine piece of glitter!” (That phrase has most definitely never been a thing, but it is now…) I can’t think back to conversations I had throughout the day without critiquing what I did say or feeling guilty about what I didn’t. I can’t look at my talents and abilities and think that they’ll ever be good enough for myself and everyone around me.
I can’t love myself, but yet I love myself too much. (Does that make any sense? Still, nope! Not at all!) I mentally strike myself down time and time again, but at the same time I’m so full of myself you’d never know it was an issue. Maybe pride is the root of issue–I’m so prideful that I expect myself to be better. Either way, I’m on either opposite ends of the spectrum, the two extremes, and neither of them are helpful. So…
I can’t let go. I cannot loosen my grip on my circumstances and my future. I can’t let go of my issues and my dilemmas, even if letting go would make things easier. I can’t let go of the things that I cannot change. I can’t seem to give them up, and I think it’s a complete control issue.
I can’t let go because if I do, who’s taking the reigns? Someone has to take the bull by the horns and make things happen, right? I’m in charge, so it’s up to me to figure things out. And if I don’t? Oh, don’t worry, I will… I can’t let go, remember? So…
I just can’t.
But He can.
When I can’t seem to dream, He shows me that His plans are greater than any idea I could even think to dream of.
“It’s ok to fail.”
When I can’t seem to try new things, He shows me that He’s waiting on the receiving end of my leap of faith, ready to catch me (Dirty Dancing style).
“Perfection is meaningless.”
When I can’t seem to love myself, He wraps me up in His arms and reminds me that His love is enough.
“Enough to die for.”
When I can’t seem let go, He tells me that He’s constantly holding on, and as soon as I let go, He can start to work.
“What are you waiting for?”
“But He said to me,
‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.'”
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9 ~