Growing A Pair

A few weeks ago I posted about Super Powers – how we all have them. And we do. But every Super Power has it’s Kryptonite.



I am my own worst enemy. The cliche-ness of that statement does not make it any less true. Any dream or goal I have ever had has always had an obstacle. And that obstacle has always been me.

Me standing with a worried brow and wringing hands. With fear and self doubt babbling a litany of reasons for failure. Reasons to give up. Reasons to quit hoping.

You’re too old. You’re too fat. He won’t listen. She won’t learn. The damage can’t be undone. Others are better. Nothing matters so why try. You’ll starve. You’re spouse will leave. You’ll fall and break a hip.

Oh yeah, and then there’s the voices outside your head. From well meaning family, friends, church members, co-workers, acquaintances, the gas station cashier, the homeless guy on the corner…

Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? That’s stupid. Why? You should do it this way. You should say that instead. You’re gonna get screwed. Look out for number one.

And if those voices aren’t enough to drive me screaming off a cliff, there’s also the voice of realism. Past experience. Knowing my own limitations. Bills that have to be paid. A spouse to consider. Family. Friends. A job. Commitments to others.

All of which must be considered, and “yes” to learning from past mistakes, too. But perhaps considered instead from the point of how they can propel me forward, not how they may hold me back.

So I have to grow a pair. I have to grow a pair so I can stand up to society, to family, to friends. But mostly, to myself.

I gotta tell ya. I took a baby step this weekend and it hurt like hell. Still does. I suspect it will for a long time, because I’m not stopping. I need this pair of spiritual balls or I’m going to stay stuck.

I know I’m on the right track, even if my first step wasn’t perfect. It was still a step. A beginning. A line in the sand. A line thru my heart.

And I’m sure that in this process, small victories will retract. Pull themselves back up into my spirit to hide and I will take a step or two backwards. Maybe even stumble and fall. I may have mascara running down my face, ripped panty hose, and a broken heel…haha- ok that’s not me. I’ll be the messy haired little kid with dirt streaked cheeks, skinned knees and snot running out of my nose.

Point is, I’m going to get my ass back up. I’m not quitting. I’m not going away. And I’m not backing down. So get ready Self. I’m not taking any of your shit anymore. There’s a new kid in town.

4 thoughts on “Growing A Pair

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