Putting Myself Out There

Recently, I rallied up the courage to ‘put myself out there’, as in going for something big I wanted very badly.

It’s a little like dreaming of all the fantastic things you will do if you win the lottery until you convince yourself it’s almost a definite; so much so you begin to count on it. Which makes it more devastating when your crumpled up lottery ticket goes drifting to the floor in slow motion as your regular life waits for you, somehow seeming like the worst possible alternative at that moment.

Yah, it was kind of like that.

Simply put, I got crushed. Crushed, as in let’s take a moment and throw a pity party for myself. Crushed, as in I need to rethink my future because this failure was never part of it. Crushed, as in wondering whether it was worth this heartbreak to have tried at all.

What I failed at doesn’t really matter, because in the end it is about the process. Or at least that’s what you are supposed to say when you fail, right?

The process can be anything from training for a race to a series of job interviews to studying for a test. It can be working on a big presentation or putting a bid in for a home you fell in love with. It could even be asking someone out on a date, or the Celtics in game seven of a series. It is any goal you really, really, REALLY want, and try really, really, REALLY hard to achieve, but despite your best efforts, it’s a fail.

I would have thought I’d be bubble wrapped in crush proof protection by now, having worked in sales for the majority of my life, accompanied by philanthropic work which can turn long lost friends into just ‘lost’ friends, as in “where did everyone go” when they see you coming.

So why did this one fail seem worse than so many others, and why did I take it so personally?

Because it was personal.

When you fight for others, whether for your job or charity, you keep fighting even after the fall because it’s what you need to do. It’s what you’ve committed to do. It’s what you believe in. And because you don’t take it personally. Sort of like those super bouncy balls you smash down and they bounce three times higher.

But when it’s personal, it’s more complicated. I don’t come with a full set of demographics and marketing information showing why I will succeed. My ingredients are not clearly listed on the wrapper. There is no free trial period or 60 day return guarantee. It’s just me believing I can do it. But sometimes I don’t. And frankly, that stinks.

As I get older, I’ve found that instead of bouncing twice as high, it takes me twice as long to get up. But I still get up, and I still have some bounce in me. And there are still some things I can do amazingly well.

Like throw one heck of a pity party.