Unteachable

I have spent so much time over the course of my life wishing someone knew what it felt like to be in my brain.  This constant revolving door of analyzing every single thing I did, but then even in analyzing, feeling like if I had an idea or thought I had to act on it right then.  My thoughts constantly bouncing from one task to the next.  The anxiousness I felt when I thought I might not know an answer to a question, or would walk into a room of people I didn’t know.  The often deep and dark brooding thoughts that would come and go which to me were an oddly delightful place to explore, but I feared what others would think about them.  I can think.  It is something I am good at.  I can look over in great detail an idea and surmise and ponder various angles and outcomes.  And when the thinking becomes too great a weight to me, growing up, I would let my impetuous nature take hold mistaking action for productivity.  The biggest thing though that betrayed me for many years of my life was my fear of failure.  I knew what success felt like, or at least I thought I did.  I didn’t struggle to learn to read; I didn’t struggle to pass tests or pick up new skills.  I was fairly active and as a girl who loved adventure and the outdoors, being able to “keep up” with most of the boys was a source of pride. 

In contrast, I watched my sister battle.  She fought to learn in an environment that was not great with teaching a child who learned outside of the box that I was so comfortable in.  I have an insanely vivid memory of being in about the 4th grade.  My family traveled to beautiful Northern California to spend time with my Aunt and Uncle and more than anything, I could not wait to ride one of their horses.  My Aunt, while being an awesome marriage and family therapist, was also an equestrian riding instructor.  I had been on horses before, and in my mind, that meant I knew how to do this.  After a short time riding and not accepting ANY correction, we took the horse back to the barn.  She let me stand and brush and braid, but my time to ride was done.  It was done because I was not teachable.  My sister who struggled so heavily in other areas, had done excellent and was learning quickly.  Because she did not see the correction as a negative.  But not me.  I had failed.  What did she mean I wasn’t teachable?  Truthfully this memory had escaped me until very, very, recently.  The truth was, she was 100% right.  That moment began a spark in me that has grown and fostered in the most unexpected ways.  In that season, fighting for change and embracing failure was not something I had experienced or understood.  

Here’s the thing.  Change is a choice.  How many times has life shifted and instead of trying to shift with it, both the good and the bad, we fight to keep everything status quo?  Or to go even further for me, the choice to change also brings about the possibility of failure and or rejection.  At least it used to.  The Lord and life have a funny was of giving opportunities for refinement.  And you can choose to accept or reject those opportunities; but you cannot prevent them from coming.  Somewhere along the way as I began to move into adulthood, I started seeing myself as stagnant.  I started feeling the pangs and weight of complacency while watching others around me pursue new and bold, and what looked to me like, daring things.  In my mind’s eye I so desperately wanted to be those people; and yet I struggled to articulate how absolutely crippling the fear of what if I fail or disappoint someone was to me.  I started to realize though that the “ease” at which I had approached certain aspects of my life had to change.  I started owning my decisions, instead of justifying them away.  I started saying “I don’t know.”  A phrase that I had RARELY ever said in my early years.  I started asking questions instead of pretending I knew the answer.  Don’t get me wrong, I had an amazing knowledge base; but it had stopped growing because I was unwilling to choose the change that was required.  I had become like an old wine skin.  When wineskins were used to ferment wine, a new one was used so that the leather could expand with the gases during the fermentation process.  Old wineskins, unless they had been restored, would crack and burst with the changes to the liquid inside of them.  I had to choose to change or change was going to break me.  I had no idea at that time that the beginning of learning to be vulnerable and fail was going to prepare me for all that our life had to hold.  I am often asked, “how do you do it? How do you deal with all that you have going on?”  I learned to seek change, to seek places to grow, to learn from others, to not let the what ifs become, I’d better not.  

If you know me well, you know fitness and being active are HUGE parts of my life.  I am active in a local CrossFit gym, and before you write off the rest of this post, I do not think CrossFit is for everyone.  Ghostdad calls it crosscult, so it is a huge joke in our house.  The reason I bring it up is not to promote CrossFit, but because for me, it was the most intentional choice for failure I have ever had.  Four and a half years ago, I was standing at the back of my Expedition in Scottish Rites parking lot lifting Brylee’s wheelchair into the back of my car.  She had had the first of several surgeries and I was struggling to get it loaded.   And in that moment, I was struck with a terrifying realization that there was going to come a day that Teagan would have to move to a wheel chair, that she would be a teenager, an adult, and would need someone to help her get through every single day.  I couldn’t lift a 20lb wheelchair. How in the world was I going to manage taking care of my own child?  Sure, I could run 26 miles but that wasn’t going to do me a lot of good when it was bedtime.  I wanted to have the chance to take care of my own daughter, knowing I could get help if I needed it. But I still wanted the opportunity to be part of that equation.  I had the chance for change and so 4-5 days a week every week, I drove the five miles from my house to the doors of the gym.  I would spend about five minutes in the parking lot in my car literally sweating, talking myself through walking in the door.  Knowing every day I walked in for a year or more, I was going to be the last one to finish.  I was moving the lightest weights.  I felt embarrassed and scared and often defeated, not because of anyone else, but because to me, I was walking in everyday failing.  But my desire to be there for all of my children somehow bared the weight of that burden.  In that first year, we got a stander for Teagan and I had to have Mark move it for me because I couldn’t lift on my own to get it to her preschool.  It has been 4 years since my first day.  And in four years, I can load and unload that stander on my own without a problem.  Teag’s is moving to a “Big Girl” wheelchair; and we could get the one she really needed because I can lift the base in and out of the car easily.  

So what is my point?  Failure isn’t the end.  The fear of failure is.  Learning how to fail brings about change.  And change brings growth.  And how devastating is a life that does not grow with the changing of a season?  It feels easier to stay the same mentally and physically, and comfortable in what you “know”.  But we are made for so much more than that.  So, my challenge sweet friend is fail.  Fail boldly and daily.  Through that you will learn that you can do really hard things.  You are so much more capable than your mind can comprehend.  Let the change come.  Just like winter provides rest to the ground, the change of spring brings growth and life and hope.  Do not settle for stagnant complacency because friend, you were made for greatness.