"Failure is only the opportunity to begin again, this time more wisely." — Henry Ford
God has really been hammering me on the issue of fear in a slightly different way than I’d imagined. He keeps showing me stories and verses related to failure and success. Here’s a devotional that I found in my inbox this morning:
Thoughts for Today
What words come to mind when asked to describe yourself? Sometimes we might define ourselves by listing our failures and our negative traits. But God has a different perspective! If we are followers of Christ, this is how God sees us …
We say: I’m a failure. I can’t do anything right.
God says: You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. Philippians 4:13
We say: I still feel guilty about things I’ve done in the past, even though I’ve confessed it all as sin and don’t do those things anymore.
God says: I blot out your sins and remember them no more. Isaiah 43:25
We say: Sometimes I feel so unlovable. How can God possibly keep on loving me?
God says: God says nothing can separate us from his love. Romans 8:38-39
We say: I tend to be such a fearful person.
God says: The righteous are as bold as a lion. Proverbs 28:1
God sees us as righteous, wise and forgiven. He sees us as his treasures, his children.
Lord, thank you for clothing me in the righteousness of Christ. Help me not to think too lowly—or too highly—of myself, but to see myself as you do. In Jesus’ name …
And then I read an article on Olympic diver Laura Wilkinson in Today’s Christian Woman (TCW) and she addressed the issue of failure and success. If God doesn’t get to me through this, I don’t know what will! I’ve posted excerpts of the TCW interview that spoke to me (occasionally interspersed with my commentary) under the cut.
"If one asks for success and prepares for failure, he will get the situation he has prepared for." — Florence Scovel Shinn
I was surprised to see an ABC News article on bipolar disorder. Bipolar disorder is the “hip” mental illness these days — especially when used to characterize someone with extreme mood swings. One section addressed admitting to bipolar disorder in a work environment:
One day, he let it slip.
“I just blurted it out. ‘I’m sorry I’m getting shock treatments. I can’t remember anything,'” Steve said. His colleagues’ reactions were less than encouraging, he recalled.
“I would say that they were afraid of me,” Steve said. “They stopped referring their clients to me.”
Steve said that eventually his colleagues’ attitudes forced him to leave his job.
I admitted my problem to three people at my job: my managing editor at my last job and three of my coworkers (one with whom I am still friendly).
- The managing editor, who had picked on me mercilessly, finally backed off. As far as I know, she didn’t tell anyone which I appreciated.
- One of my coworkers admitted she had depression to me first before I told her I had bipolar disorder. It’s understood between us that we won’t go around and talk about these things.
- The other coworker also told me about her journey through depression and her treatment afterward. I then revealed my struggle with bipolar disorder. We are friends outside of work now.
- I’d told the last coworker about this shortly after I received my diagnosis after being released from the psych hospital. As far as I know, she didn’t tell anyone. But in the end, she’s the one who said the hurtful things about me in the e-mail I inadvertently received. It’s anyone’s guess if she told other coworkers or if she completely forgot.
My experience is: work is work. Outside of work is where one gains support for any illness they struggle with. Acknowledging my response is skewed on the basis of recent events, I can’t recommend telling anyone you work with about one’s illness. I should have kept to my Psychology professor’s advice: “Never tell anyone you work with about your illness, trust me when I tell you: they will treat you differently.”
I attended an outpatient group in late October 2006 after my hospitalization. One lady said that one of her coworkers admitted she was bipolar; since then, the coworker was teased and verbally abused by her supervisor and other coworkers. I’m not positive but I think the person might have even gotten fired lest her disorder interfere with her ability to do her job. (She cleaned pools.)
People with the disorder often have trouble keeping a job and are 40 percent less likely to be employed than the average person, said Ronald Kessler, a public health researcher at Harvard University.
On the other hand, Kessler said, if treated properly, they can be creative and invaluable individuals. Many highly successful authors, artists and professionals have the disorder.
I’ve seen statistics like this before and they worry me. I constantly wonder whether I’ll ever be able to hold down a full-time job for a long period of time. I’m currently unemployed and – to my disbelief – enjoying it. I’m afraid I’ll get lazy and never go back to work. I’m afraid that I’ll start to go in and out of jobs like a revolving door. One of my psychotherapists in college flat out told me that I’d never be able to hold down a job.
As I try to venture into editorial freelancing, I’m afraid of a host of things: outdated skills, inexperience, lack of confidence, failure, libel, confrontation, socializing, networking, creating expectations (of myself) that I never live up to. My counselor told me to just jump in and do it first then worry about the details later. [deep breath]
I fear failure the most. Failure that I’ve forgotten my editorial skills because they haven’t been used daily since 2005. Failure that editors will write me off because I’m a 26-year-old with unimpressive clips like “Bees Infest Dorm Hall” (yawn), “Student Organization Rallies Youth to Vote” (so cliche), and “Penn State Strikes Deal with Napster on File-Sharing” (Nov. 2003 = old). Failure that I’ll write an article, misinterpret the facts, and then get the publication slapped with a lawsuit. Failure that I’ll have to be “pleasantly persistent” in calling up editors, asking for prompt payment of my freelance services. Failure that I will intentionally avoid things that would otherwise propel my career: attending social mixers, networking, doing all the social things that makes my blood run cold because I hate meeting new people (in person). Failure that I’ll look at past awards I’ve received and then never live up to the reason why I received them in the first place. I don’t want to blame bipolar disorder from holding me back but sometimes, I can’t help but think where I’d be in my professional career without it.
(Image from gobears.wordpress.com)
As the only child of Haitian immigrants (side note: As I write this, I’m making a note to check on the proper usage of immigrant/emigrant), pressure to make them proud was thrust upon me. Making them happy had never been a problem until I wrote my first book at 6 years old. My parents and school librarian marveled at my ability to grasp the concept of a beginning, middle and end with a clear conflict and climax at such an early age. My parents — namely my father — viewed me as a child prodigy in the area of writing. Talk ensued about me skipping a grade; peers envied me as I took second grade reading in first grade; my father strongly encouraged me to write a follow-up story. But, sophomore follow-ups don’t tend to be nearly as good as a debut. I wrote Lila’s Secret Hideout in second grade and poured my heart and soul into the book, which included endless revisions and drafts — with the help of my librarian. My father insisted that Lila’s Secret Hideout was nowhere near as good as my debut, Sarah’s Boots. I spent the rest of my life trying to win another Pulitzer Prize from my father.
I’d continue to fail.