July 31, 2011

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.” -- Joseph Chilton Pearce

I was raised by a military stepfather and a selfish, jealous mother.  There was little room for error in our household, at least for me and my brother.    The folks could make the mistakes; little brother and I could not.  This glaring double standard, draped around parental apathy, left me struggling for many, many years.  Being wrong in our household meant ridicule, public shaming and corporal punishment.  And if I realized before they did that I had made a mistake, then holy shit!   Panic and fear would cut into my body and mind, my existence.  I would live with fear praying not to be found out.

Living with a perpetual fog of fear hanging over my head stunted me.  I spent years not moving, acting like a deer stuck in the headlights.  And when I did do some pretty bold and courageous stuff with my life, success was often thwarted by my fear-based, child-like reactions.  If adversity presented itself or if I realized I had erred, then I would stay silent waiting for bad shit to happen to me.  I would turn into a scared child and hide in the corners to escape shame, ridicule or a beating.  My parents raised a fear-based reactionary who ended up being used for target practice by some very deceitful people.  People who prey upon the wounded.

I made a conscientious choice a little more than a year ago to stop being afraid of making mistakes.  I mean, what was the worst that could happen?  Thousands of dollars of my savings and many valuables could be stolen by an alcoholic boyfriend.  My office staff could conspire with the county administration office to take my business by rerouting the grant funds and financially ruining me.  I could spend seven years in a relationship in which I am being systematically cheated on.  I mean, what really can happen that is worse than what had already happened?