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I am the crazy mom of five boys.  Four of my five boys are on the autism spectrum. Neuro-Diversity rocks!!!  I cook, I clean, I blog, I breathe.  Yup that is about it.  If you want to catch a glimpse of our crazy world you are more than welcome but don't say I didn't warn you.

Monday, July 9, 2018

What If I Fail?

Am I strong enough to face my fears; all of them? Am I strong enough to fail; to fail spectacularly?  Am I strong enough to shed all my protective layers and be real? Am I strong enough to do what I dream of without thinking of the consequences? Am I strong enough to fight for the weaker, the disadvantaged, for those on the fringes of society, no matter of the cost to myself? Am I truly strong enough?



You know what, I don't care anymore. I don't care if I'm strong enough. I don't care if I'm not.  I've spent too much of my life caring about these things.  Now I have come to an amazing realizaion.....wait for it: No one cares! No one cares if I fail. No one cares if I am strong enough or not. No one cares if I fight or if I lay down and bury my head in the sand.  If I choose to be an ostrich, no one will know that I ever had the thought to fight.  And if I fight, they will just assume that is who I am and will have no idea or care about the internal battle that it took for me to get there.  Nobody cares because it's not about me! It never was. It was only my own insecurities and pride that ever made it about me.  So I no longer care. I no longer am going to wait to be strong enough. I'm no longer going to live my life trying to protect myself from failure, even spectacular failure.  I'm 41 years old and I have so many things that I've wanted to do but haven't because I was too consumed with myself; my self doubt, my fear of faiure, my fear of what people think, my all consuming need to do it right.  Yet even with all of that annalysis and fear, I have still failed.  I have been broken into so many pieces that I couldn't even count them. And do you know what has happened, even in all of that failure? I survived. I grew. I glued myself back together into a whole different kind of woman.  And then I broke again. And once again I pieced myself back together; this time the pieces came together more quickly. Failure happens.  Breaking happens.  I no longer fear the process.  I have survived it.  I will survive it again  So I no longer care if I'm strong enough to take it.  I'm going to give it my best shot. To hell with success. To hell with failure.  To hell with me and my insecurities.
 None of it matters.  All that matters is: have I lived my life with true integrity? Have I been kind?  Have I been compassionate? Have I been honest, even with myself? Have I loved fully and completely?  Have I tried with everything in me?  Have I shot for the stars? Have I dared to believe I could live the dream? Have I truly failed? Have I spectacularly failed?
When I die, I hope I can honestly answer that I have.
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