|Sweater and Jeans and Purse: Lotus Boutique (soon to be re-branded and called CRIV), Booties: Nine West|
I’ve been wondering a lot lately when it happens. When we tell ourselves, no wait… CONVINCE ourselves, that we can’t do something.
When, exactly, do we give up on ourselves?
As kids, we believe we can do anything. We fall thousands of times learning to walk, but not one of us gives up on trying. We crash to the ground, skid our knees, hurt our elbows, and tear up our hands falling off of bicycles without training wheels but we continue. We fall, we simply get up.
I wonder? Is it because everyone is expected to walk? Because most people know how to ride bicycles? When do we start telling ourselves that falling is not okay? That falling is bad. That falling is failing (instead of a necessary part of the journey). We get older and we become "scaredy cats". Far too damn concerned with what other people think and not nearly as concerned as we should be with what we think of ourselves. With what we are doing with this one, precious life we are given.
I’m not sure if it’s an age we hit, if it’s getting our hearts broken, or maybe it’s listening to other people’s shit (that they project onto us and we then internalize)? Is it when life gets hard, when we fall flat broke, get embarrassed, or fail publicly at something we try? I know some people say it’s because of the way they were raised. It’s their mom’s fault, their dad’s fault. It’s their exes fault. Their ex-BFF from 9th grade. Perhaps a teacher who scolded them too harshly (telling them they aren’t shit, won’t be shit, and shouldn’t strive to amount to much more than shit).
Or maybe it’s when we see other people try and fail at something? We tell ourselves that if THEY can’t do it, then I certainly can’t do it. We focus on the masses and then tell ourselves that it’s a numbers game. Convinced that the law of averages or probability tells us that we are no different than the masses. Then we hold on to that belief. As a matter of fact, we embrace it. We call it humility. We label it a virtue. We wear it like a badge of honor, something to be proud of. We don't ruffle feathers, don't ripple the water. No one judges us too harshly. We live in the middle. Middle of the road, on medium heat. We convince ourselves that people who are bold are also conceded, self-promoting and somehow different from us. That their success in an anomaly. Unicorn dust. A magic pill they sold their soul for. That there is something so fundamentally different about them that we could NEVER do what they do. Then… we get bitter and slowly turn into the type of person that talks shit about people who dare to deviate. We label them “lucky” and then put ourselves in the “unlucky” category.
In the last few years, with my R+F business and Pilates, I have been talking to a lot of people (mostly women) about mindset, and my mind has been BLOWN by how LITTLE people really think of themselves. It’s fking heartbreaking. It’s an epidemic. They use words like “normal” and “average” to describe themselves and are convinced that success or happiness is reserved for people very different from them. It’s absolutely maddening to see just how many people lie to themselves about what they are capable of. Almost as maddening as when they use words like “luck” to describe someone who has worked their ass off.
I am convinced that if more people gave up the bullshit story they feed themselves every day and replaced it with something else, something positive, something hopeful, that a lot would change. Having bad “ luck” becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Have you ever met those people who ALWAYS have a sob story? Are full of excuses? Always lamenting about how difficult everything is? They "try soooooo hard" and nothing ever goes right for them. That shit is energy man, and it attracts like energy. The older I get the more I truly believe that much of your world is how you choose to view it and how you play the hand you've been dealt. There's a quote in a book called "The Alchemist" that says... "Most people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, the word turns out, indeed, to be a threatening place."
I'm not sure if anyone out there needed to be reminded that on wobbly legs, with shaky knees, after countless bruises, bumps and scraps that they picked themselves up and learned to walk, but I'm pretty sure that if we reminded ourselves of that once on a while we would be a bit more brave. A bit more sure of ourselves, AND that if we were more of those things, sure of ourselves and brave, that we would live a bit more boldly. Give less FUKS about what people think and take more chances on ourselves.
I mean. It can't hurt to try, right?