Fear of Failure

bare feet boy child couch
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

There are well over 500 documented phobias, or irrational fears, that can affect individuals at any given time. Some are merely temporary, while others can be life long. Certain phobias are so severe that individuals may take heavy doses of medication to maintain some level of “normal” function, while some simply prevent them from having household pets. A fear that isn’t frequently discussed as a phobia, but is named as one, is atychiphobia, or “fear of failure.” As it turns out, I’m more than a little familiar with this fear, and have dealt with for most of my life.

As a child, I learned early on what it meant to disappoint my father. His stern, judgmental, and religious orientated parenting methods often left me feeling like I couldn’t do anything right. As the offspring of a devout Jehovah’s Witness, I was taught to strictly observe their customs and beliefs, such as Do NOT celebrate Birthdays, do NOT salute the flag, do NOT have “wordly” (non-Jehovah’s Witness friends). I silently watched other children socialize with each other and enjoy these forbidden celebrations at school, while I either sat in the corner of the classroom, or worse, out in the hallway at a lonely desk all to myself, where for all it was worth I may have just as well been hanging on a cross in front of the school. I wanted so badly to be a member of the group, but feared letting my father down (as well as the fearsome Jehovah God, who watched my EVERY move, EVERY second of the day).

Because I felt so strongly inside that I needed to obey both my father’s and Jehovah’s commands, yet at the same time wanted to fit in, I carried around feelings of tremendous guilt and conflict. On the rare occasion that I’d sneak to some other kid’s house and have a piece of birthday cake, I’d later feel shameful about my actions, and deeply fearful of my father finding out. Unfortunately, it wasn’t only fear of not following my father’s wishes that undermined my healthy emotional growth. He was deeply critical of every move I made. He was constantly following me around, asking me why I did things a certain way. Why did I leave a dish in the sink. Why did I not shut a door. Why did I leave a toilet seat up. On and on. Sometimes he’d remark on something I’d done and call me an “idiot.” I believed I wasn’t ever good enough for him, and felt I couldn’t do anything right.

It was extraordinarily difficult to manage my feelings of frustration and anger. I had no outlet for such emotions; my father certainly wouldn’t hear of it, and I feared his belt if I said too much. Then my parents separated and divorced, and it quickly became a matter of either pleasing my father OR my mother, as my father remained a Jehovah’s Witness, while my mother left the religion and sought to indulge my sister and I in the world my father fought so hard to keep us out of. She celebrated every Holiday, while my father chastised me for participating in these celebrations, going so far as to say I would “die at Armageddon” -the day when Jehovah was going to destroy all those who refused to do his will. It became painfully obvious I couldn’t do anything that was ever going to make BOTH my parents happy at the SAME time. It’s no wonder that by the age of ten I had invented my own superhero-The Everything Kid-who was able to do anything or be anything. As The Everything Kid, I could be well liked, I was perfect (made no mistakes), and was “super human.”

Well how did I turn out? I stayed in my Everything Kid costume for much of my adult life. Easily fulfilling “people-pleasing” roles, I consistently put the happiness of others before my own. I made hasty, and poor decisions. I was constantly anxious and in a rush, often saying to myself “I should be X (fill in the blanks) by now.” My main goal was to prove my value, my worth, and that I could be the “best” at whatever it was I was doing. Anything less than that was failure. Not only was I afraid of failing at something, I was afraid that others would think I was a failure, even if I was successful, as surely they could see through to the real me. I sought out the external rewards and praise that I didn’t get from either of my parents. I’d do anything if it meant validation and something to give me a sense of self-worth, even if that meant settling with partners I was ill-suited for or staying in jobs I was over-qualified for.

Fairly often, I found myself in impossible situations in my home and work life, as well as numerous financial crises. I’d stick with whatever I was doing though, even if it wasn’t the path that made the most sense to outside observers, to show I was capable of overcoming anything. One of my favorite sayings was “throw me in a tank full of piranhas for an hour and I’ll be the only one left.” But alas, staying in tough situations too long caused me to lose time, money and chances at healthy relationships.

I’m sure many of us lived with highly critical or unsupportive parents who sought to undermine us or humiliate us at every turn. What I’ve found is that our parents’ voices become our voices, as the negative thoughts and feelings we have about ourselves persist. This pervasive inner voice can lead to the following:

  • Self-Sabotage: We endure such high levels of anxiety or fear of failure that we become frozen, like deer in the headlights, and aren’t able to complete the tasks in front of us, or don’t do them well.
  • Low Self-Esteem: Our self-confidence ebbs or is at times non-existent. We feel we aren’t “good enough” or “smart enough” for partners or jobs and so “settle” for less than we are suitable for.
  • Perfectionism: We fear failing so deeply that we only attempt or try to do things we are able to do perfectly. We won’t engage in the tougher challenges, or take the risks that are associated with greater rewards.

Not silencing this critical voice within can often lead us to approach life’s challenges by “playing not to lose” instead of “playing to win.” We may become motivated to avoid any chance of failure, so as to avoid any feelings of disappointment, loss or frustration. That would be unfortunate, as failing can actually teach us lessons we can take with us when it’s time to meet the next challenge. I know it is easier said then done, but we can choose to be afraid or we can choose to not be afraid. If you’ve lived your whole life with a fear of failure then it’s time you owned up to it and did something about it. Start by finding a good cognitive therapist. It will be a process that may take years, but once you move from Fear of Failure to Freedom from Fear, you’ll know it was all worth it.

For more on this topic, please read this excellent post by Guy Winch, PhD: “10 Signs That You Might Have Fear of Failure…and 2 ways to overcome it and succeed.” https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-squeaky-wheel/201306/ten-signs-you-might-have-fear-failure

 

Searching for the Opiate: How My Parents Became Jehovah’s Witnesses

poppy-red-poppy-flower-blossom.jpg

Karl Marx once said that religion is “the opium of the people,” and I fully understand. It is a most difficult process to get to the root of the problem, to the core of who we are and even why we are, and to contend with potentially poisonous and distorted emotions. Some individuals choose the easy way out when dealing with bodily aches and pains, taking pain pills instead of utilizing diet, exercise and other healthy regimens to treat, or prevent, the underlying cause of their pain. There are more than a few paths we can follow to mask our pain. A religion, for example, may give us a sense of well being, a belief that someone more powerful is in control, has a plan for us, and will ultimately fix whatever inside of us we perceive to be broken. These beliefs may help us deal with the symptoms of our suffering, but don’t typically enable us to look critically at what’s going on inside each of us, at what’s ultimately driving our thoughts, actions and behaviors.

Many religions or spiritual philosophies preach life after death in heaven as the ultimate goal and reward for living through the common or uncommon trials and tribulations of life. Other spiritual paths may teach a belief in reincarnation, where one is blessed or cursed, depending on how one sees it, to live again and again on the way to one’s highest self. In my early life, I held to a belief that there is a God, who in his due time, will select a few to be saved when he violently destroys the vast majority of people in a fiery “Armageddon.” Those who’ve been judged worthy by this “most loving” God will survive this traumatic period to live on a paradise earth, restored to the splendor of the original Garden of Eden, where after one thousand years Satan the Devil himself will be released as a final test to mankind. Then, and only then, those who pass this test will be allowed to live forever on this paradise earth, where sickness and death have perished, and meat-eating carnivores will crave flesh no more.

According to the information published on the official website of Jehovah’s Witnesses, there are over eight million active followers throughout the globe. Current estimates put the population of the entire world at about 7.6 Continue reading “Searching for the Opiate: How My Parents Became Jehovah’s Witnesses”

The Response

young-game-match-kids.jpg

My grandmother repeatedly told me “life’s not fair,” and I never felt the need to argue this point with her. She was right; life isn’t fair. It doesn’t owe us a fucking thing—we get out of it what we put into it. Faced with adversity, we can quit midway through, dejected, hurt and spent, or we can pick ourselves up off the floor and finish the game. We may fall down again. We might even find ourselves all the way back to start, with nothing but our own skin protecting us from the cold, harsh realities we don’t want to face. Sometimes there’s a hand held out toward us in a gesture of help, while at other times, that same hand is rudely slapping us across the face. No matter how many times we stumble, and no matter how many times we fail, all that matters is how we respond.

Thanks to the work of psychologists John Bowlby, Mary Ainsworth and others, we’re now aware that the quality of the early bond between a parent and a child is a highly significant predictor of that child’s later success in life. The relationships a child will seek and engage in, the career paths he’ll follow, and all the other major choices he’ll make, are heavily influenced by the nature of the initial attachment he experiences with his caregivers. If a child doesn’t receive all the love, comfort and protection he requires and craves in those critical months and years, he may find himself adrift, desperately searching for anything to replace what he didn’t know was missing. Those struggling to form healthy, secure relationships, may not fully comprehend what lies at the core of the difficulties and challenges they face. To understand this may require the kind of introspection they may be incapable of doing alone.

I’ve consulted with several different therapists, and while some were more successful than others at giving me the ability to reframe the conversations inside my head, none specifically told me I may have suffered from “insecure, anxious attachment” to my primary caregivers—I’ve figured that out on my own. My formal diagnosis was PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), as a result of the childhood abuse and neglect I suffered at the hands of various parental figures.

It’s difficult to reflect upon these early relationships, given how far in the subconscious these experiences may be buried, whether due to memories too painful to bear or the simple passage of time. I knew something wasn’t right with my parental figures but wasn’t initially sure who played what part in what became a long journey of self-discovery. I initially blamed my father for nearly everything. I blamed him for the poverty we experienced as children; for my sister’s experiences with rage at such an early age; for not protecting me from my stepmother and her random, unpredictable emotions; and for joining a religion that would forever plant a wedge in our relationship. He was a violent son-of-a-bitch. He beat all of his children mercilessly on multiple occasions, his hideous belt swinging at all of us whenever he could no longer control his temper. He struck my mother often when I was just a toddler, which helped me to see her as a wounded individual, more deserving of pity than love, so much so that I’d find it difficult to separate the two concepts in my own relationships. Given what I’d experienced, it was easy to see her as a victim. Perhaps because of this, my memories of the things she did for me, not the things she didn’t, formed the narrative I’d hold on to well into my early forties.

The world has been a confusing and at times overwhelming place for me to live. The uncertainties of life have often given me great anxiety, to the point where those fears have escalated into full-blown panic attacks, requiring medication or even hospitalization. Everyone deals with the unpredictable nature of existence in various ways. Some are secure enough not to be thrown off course by the termination of a relationship or a job, confident they will find another, perhaps even more suitable combination. I once envied such people, wondering what made them so different from me. I carried around the idea for a long time that something was missing, or broken, inside of me.

Human relationships have been a source of disabling pain and conflict for me. My need for security, my yearning for approval, my desire to belong, and my longing to feel loved and accepted have all influenced how and why I formed certain attachments. My intense craving for companionship and fear of being alone has lead me to form precarious and risky bonds, the nature of which I didn’t give much thought to when I initiated them. I’ve often latched onto individuals I thought I could “fix” or “help” to reach their full potential, determined to be a “superhero” that could mold them into people they weren’t capable of being or simply didn’t want to be. I’d let the pursuit of my personal happiness take a back seat to the unattainable goal of helping others find their own happiness.

I know what it’s like to feel stuck, trapped, and unable to decide what to do, when to do it or how to do it. Easily manipulated and frequently caught up in endless loops of indecisiveness, impulsive behavior and poor decision-making, I’ve assumed passive roles with partners I wasn’t suited for, and have found myself taking on their issues as my own. I’ve stayed far too long in jobs that demanded less of my intellect and ability. I even accepted a highly controlling religion instructing me how to think and how to behave.

I’ve seen people make choices, but I’ve also seen their choices make them. I’ve met individuals who appear to know how to live with intention, masterfully and fearlessly in control of creating their own story. I’ve observed others stumbling around in the dark looking for signs, but when they’re presented with those signs, don’t know how to read them. I’ve also known many who claim to be victims of circumstances, taking themselves off the hook for all outcomes, seeing the events in their lives as things happening to them, and not because of them. I was once one of these people.

For much of my life, I considered myself to be out of control and could not or would not see I had the power to change course. I’ve known indecision on many levels and the anxiety that accompanies it. My decisions in many critical moments have set me on a trajectory toward even more critical decisions I wasn’t well equipped to make, leading me to plunge deeper and deeper into holes I’d spend a long time digging out of. There were alarms going off, but either I chose to ignore them, didn’t fully recognize them for what they were, or was simply afraid to hear them. Had I heeded those alarms, I would’ve been forced to take a leap into the unknown, and that’s often frightened me more than the prospect of staying in a toxic situation.

Preoccupied with doing, I’ve given little thought to the long-term consequences or outcomes derived from my actions. In my constant hurry to go somewhere, I’ve approached life as a giant “task-list” to check off as quickly as possible, filling my hours and days with every activity imaginable. This has provided me with the instant gratification I’ve sought, and just as importantly, the sensation of forward motion. Moving quickly toward some destination, I haven’t always known where I was going—I was just going, I was certain of that. As a consequence, I’ve repeatedly ended up where I was without knowing how or why I got there.

Whatever the forces of gravity imposed upon us by our choices, our inner peace is determined, in part, by our acceptance of the outcomes of those choices. While I’m aware of this now, I haven’t always been able to rise above my circumstances or learn from my experiences. As many times as I’ve taken the best from a situation, I’ve also discovered the worst, and I do understand it’s not always possible to simply “imagine” things turning around. I’ve experienced moments of indifference, or worse, found enjoyment in sliding down the spiral, sinking further and further into an abyss of polluted emotions. I’ve embraced the darkness and its sleepless nights, letting my suffering and the contemplation over my own wounds define me.

I vividly recall turning twenty-one, my entire life spread out ahead of me like an interstate highway in the middle of the deserts of New Mexico, about a quarter of the way along my journey. I’m the star of my own show, yet the audience isn’t yet ready to applaud. They’re waiting for the next act, and everyone except me, is prepared. This isn’t a dream—I must go on, but I have no idea what to say or do. There are no cue cards, and there’s no director. It’s beyond frightening! How do the other actors know what to do, what to say, when to say it and how to say it? At other times, I stand like an artist contemplating his work, perched in front of an enormous canvas, painting with a brush that’s languished in colored water made muddy from a palette of a hundred choices. Now, my youth is behind me in my rear-view mirror, with many years come and gone, stolen from me so quickly the thief is in and out without being seen.

No matter the life we’ve led, every challenge we’ve ever had, and every individual we’ve ever encountered can teach us valuable lessons. We can choose to take something positive from our voyage, and allow our past to be a precious gift, not an excuse. Seen this way, every experience has purpose and meaning.

The Wise Mind

the wise mindI was recently introduced to Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT). This therpeutic model, in part, utilizes the idea that the mind has three distinct states, a “reasonable mind,” an “emotional mind,” and a “wise mind,” as a mean’s of describing the driving forces behind a person’s thoughts and behaviors. How often we’ve heard someone say they made a decision with their head, and not their heart, or vice-versa. The head is the intellectual, or reasonable mind, while the heart is the emotional mind. Imagine if we made decisions from a place that balances between the two: the wise mind?

I’m familiar with spending the early part of my life making decisions from a purely emotional mind. I didn’t know any better. A great deal of my youth was spent reacting to my constantly shifting, and often dangerous environment. I endured many different adult caregivers, most of whom had far too much emotional baggage to properly consider my thoughts or feelings. When life comes at you faster than you can process what’s happening, you learn to respond emotionally, as there is little to no time available to plan a proper response. Unfortunately, as one grows older, constantly making decisions based on emotion leads one to indulge in impulsive actions with little regard for consequences.

As a young adult, I entered into a relationship no one thinking reasonably would have. I married my first wife because I took pity on her, and felt that our shared, flawed past was a good foundation for our partnership. I felt sorry for her for what she went through, and felt that based on my own traumatic childhood, I’d be able to help her heal from her wounded inner child. I was so wrong. She had issues that were beyond my capacity to deal with, and our relationship crashed tragically in just a few short years, costing me dearly both financially and emotionally.

In my teens, I sought earnestly for a way out of a difficult and stressful situation with my mother. My father had been a Jehovah’s Witness nearly all of my life, and I jumped at the opportunity to join him in his faith as a way of escaping a confusing and conflicted environment. It seemed the Jehovah’s Witnesses held all of the answers to the questions I’d been asking and had a purpose for my life already mapped out. It was a purely emotional decision, as I never thought about what would happen if I should ever decide to no longer believe in what the Jehovah’s Witnesses teach, nor did I even fully research their beliefs prior to joining. That highly charged, snap decision I made as a youth has resulted in me enduring many decades with no relationship with my father or sisters who remain active Jehovah’s Witnesses, not to mention the pain I endured when I lost many close friends as a result of my leaving the group.

I’ve learned more recently the value of slowing down, of focusing on the present. I no longer allow my past to act as an anchor, and I stopped worrying about the future. I understand that I cannot always control my environment, yet I can control how I respond to it. When making decisions I am now able recognize the importance of balancing an emotional response, which may be rooted in past experience, with a reasonable one, which may have a foundation in research or knowledge of facts. I am by no means an expert on this topic but have recognized the value of practicing this approach whenever I am called on to make decisions that will impact me far beyond the present moment.

Image courtesy of https://www.therapistaid.com/therapy-worksheet/wise-mind

Attachment to Identity

believe-nothing-experience_tribal-simplicity2
In a previous entry I discussed attachment to experience. Another attachment we may be holding onto that may make it difficult to move from one phase of our lives to another is an attachment to identity. Most recently, I’ve wrestled with the transition of my children from complete dependence on me to formation of their own independent personalities and social connections. It hasn’t been easy and I have in some ways “grieved” the loss of the little selves I was once totally responsible for. I so strongly identified with making their every meal, reading to them at night, and simply being the center of their world, that I’ve found it difficult to let go of the feeling of purpose that this all provided to me. The part that requires work is letting go of this attachment, realizing how necessary it is for me to do that, to allow my children to continue to grow and become adult versions of themselves. Should I not be able to let go of attachment of this identity, it will result in suffering for both me, in ruminating over something I can no longer have and for my children, who would feel me as a weight around their ankle on their journey toward adulthood.

Another significant attachment to identity I once held on to was being one of Jehovah’s Witness. Those who have never been one of Jehovah’s Witnesses cannot relate to the fact that active membership in this religion requires not just full immersion at the time of one’s water baptism, but also full immersion in every aspect of one’s life. You are taught that you shall have no friends who aren’t also Jehovah’s Witnesses, that anyone outside the group is “bad association” who must be avoided at all costs, unless one is trying to indoctrinate them. It would follow then that one should only pick a mate who is one of Jehovah’s Witnesses also. Many Witnesses also find that their employers are also Witnesses. So often a Witness’s entire social structure is built upon connections with only other Witnesses. Second to that is the fact that the daily and weekly activities completely revolve around ones carefully selected by the leaders of the group. From the daily Watchtower guided scripture reading, to the weekly meetings and the requirement that a certain amount of time be allocated to studying Watchtower publications and going “door-to-door,” trying to convince others to believe as they do, there is no time left for any pursuit connected with one’s own independent mind or interests. As a Witness, your identity is entirely connected to being one of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Should one begin to doubt the teachings of Jehovah’s Witnesses then, one would have to be prepared to completely separate and let go of the identity they have known, which was all consuming. I’ve known some, like myself, who find themselves suddenly outside the tightly controlled group with no friends and no family, their entire social structure suddenly evaporated. The loneliness can be unbearable. The act of filling that void may take the shape of attachments to alcohol, drugs or undesirable and harmful relationships with other people. It took me many years to become aware and conscious of the reasons behind the attachments I formed and how to finally let go of them to achieve inner peace and happiness.

My greater understanding of the lessons my life has been seeking to teach me with regard to attachments came when I learned of “The Four Noble Truths” that Buddha taught 2,500 years ago. Now you do not have to convert to Buddhism to understand these Truths nor do you have to agree with everything Buddha taught; unlike tightly controlled groups like the Jehovah’s Witnesses, Buddhist teachings do not require that everyone accept all or none of it. Even Buddha himself said, “Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.” I like the idea that one does not have to completely immerse themselves in a belief system but can take a teaching that resonates with them, as the Four Noble Truths have with me. I won’t go into The Four Noble Truths in detail here, but the Second Noble Truth deals specifically with the origin of the cause of human suffering, which Buddha taught is the “Attachment to Desire,” which can be a desire for things we want or a desire to avoid things we don’t want. The idea that we can let go of these attachments is key to our achieving happiness.

Whenever I contemplate the difficulty of letting something go, whether it be an attachment to an identity I no longer have or an attachment to an experience, such as having my once youthful body, I think about what those attachments represent, such as a desire to have my children or my body obey my every command (both a form of desire for power), and then I focus on letting them go. This is not easy work, and work that I’ve found comes only with daily practice and meditation. If you’ve struggled with feeling any suffering over the nature of your attachments, I strongly suggest that you read “The Four Noble Truths” and then reflect upon how these Truths may be relevant in your own life.

Image courtesy of http://www.tribalsimplicity.com

Attachment to Experience

nature-forest-waves-trees.jpgHow often have you found yourself making statements such as “I am sick,” or “I am angry,” or even “I am happy.” These “I am” statements serve to identify ourselves as being one and the same with the experience we are having. On a larger scale, we may use such statements in more negative ways, such as “I am poor” or “I am not good at relationships.” We are then confessing that whatever we are going through in that moment has become more than something we are experiencing, it has become something that has come to define us as individuals. And if we adopt a particular framework of who we are, it often further influences our future thoughts and subsequently the actions we take as a result of those thoughts. We may then be caught up in a vicious loop of negative self-images and self-talk that may only further influence the direction our life takes.

I believe the best way to get out of this potentially hurtful loop is to see ourselves as existing separately from our experience. Our experience should not define who we are unless we allow it to. For example, consider the above statement,”I am sick.” What if we instead thought “I am healthy but my body is experiencing an illness.” The identification of seeing oneself as sick may continue to manifest itself as a continually sick body, one which takes longer to heal. By seeing the self as healthy, yet moving through the experience of being sick, we may actually allow for a quicker healing process.

Likewise let’s reflect on the aging process. Many fear growing old and dying. Why? Because they are attached to the experience of being young, their former body shape, hair color or the once taut skin they enjoyed. This attachment to the experience of youthfulness causes many to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on expensive hair, skin and body treatments designed to help make them look younger than they actually are. However, none of this stops or even slows down the aging process. What if instead we could accept the impermanence of life, and accept that our bodies were meant to slowly break down and eventually give up, knowing this is an inexorable process that no one on this earth who has ever lived has been able to avoid? Would it not be less stressful to “go with the flow” as it were, and accept our physical changes?

I believe by accepting whatever state we are in, whether it be financial issues, aging, sickness or other major life events, that we can be happier and mentally healthier. At any given moment we are simply moving through an experience or collection of experiences, often not knowing how long it will last. But because we often don’t know how long an experience will last we may be inclined to give in to it, and lose our will to stay unattached from it. However, we must understand thought that absolutely every experience is temporary, as our bodies do not go on forever.

My beliefs are my own and I realize you may have your own thoughts about the connection between yourself and your experiences. Thank you for reading.

There Is No Ground

Rocky Ground HD Desktop BackgroundI recently read several books written by renowned Buddhist Nun Pema Chodron. In her works, she writes often of being “groundless,” or of living with uncertainty and the realization that there is no real ground underneath our feet. I devoured her works with great interest, knowing that for much of my life I more than anything craved ground under my own feet, and sought in earnest for anything that I could hold on to. My early life was full of chaos and constant change. My parents divorced when I was eight, and then my mother went from being a Jehovah’s Witness to an Episcopalian to a Born Again Christian before I was even 16. My father remarried and brought three more children into the world. We sometimes did not even live in one place for an entire year. I went to four different elementary schools, three different middle schools and two different high schools. In the midst of all these shifts, I desired more and more to have solid ground to stand on, something to count on, something that I knew would always be there, and yet I could not find it. When I was 15, I often found myself up on top of the hill behind our home at the time, praying to whomever might be listening for guidance, direction, and above all else, certainty with regard to where I was headed. I sincerely believed that someone greater than me would finally provide the answers I was seeking.

At 16, I traveled by myself to a town two states away to be with my father for two months. He had recently moved and I’d been missing him dearly. My father had remained a Jehovah’s Witness and I knew there would be an expectation that I would attend the meetings with him while I was there, knowing that there was no way they would leave me in their home alone. So while that was expected, what was unexpected was how in that first meeting I would hear what was indeed music to my confused ears. For most of their followers, the leaders of the Jehovah’s Witnesses have all of the answers, and that day, at that meeting, I felt the same way. No more would I have to worry or dwell on the uncertainty of my own future. I quickly made a formal dedication to this way of life and never looked back. For the first time in my short time on earth, I felt I had a purpose in life! This purpose included going to three different meetings each week, preaching 90 hours a month to others, and ultimately serving in the world headquarters of the group in Brooklyn. I believed I knew exactly what each day would bring, and at the end of the repetition of all of this work was the grand prize of someday living in an earthly paradise! My hope was strong, the earth felt firm under my feet, and nothing could knock me off course. Nothing, that is, until I came to realize that what I believed and what I asked others to believe was not the truth that I once thought it was.

I was crushed, I was rocked, I bounced all over like an errant spring. Walking away from my beliefs meant no longer having a purpose, as well as losing my friends and family. There was no certainty about anything and I lived recklessly, as if I had no tomorrow to live for at all. There was no longer any ground beneath my feet, and I was terrified. Within a year of leaving the Witnesses I found another small piece of ground to hold onto when I found my first wife. Her life was ripe with turmoil and emotional disorder, but once again I had a purpose, to help heal her and see her become the person she was meant to be. Ultimately my actions never proved to be enough to help her and I grew despondent. We parted ways, and once again I found myself adrift in loneliness and despair. It would only take another year for me to find someone to latch onto once again.

In the years that followed I brought children into this world. I was never certain if I was doing the right things as a parent and I did not manage my finances well. I lived in constant fear of the groundlessness of the situation I was in, just dying for someone or something to show me the way out. I prayed to God endlessly for direction once again, much as I had done as a teenager. Sometimes things improved for a short while, only to plunge into chaos once again. I rode a fast running train of anxiety all through my adult life, seemingly moving from one disaster to the next, or at least that’s how I viewed it.

It is best to realize that our lives are generally in a state of flux. The stress comes when our lives do not meet our expectations or desires, when we are not flexible or adaptable enough to adjust to the constantly shifting sands that swirl all around us. We don’t have full control over what is happening, as w cannot control the actions of those we are connected with. By resisting the changes we experience, we actually can make the situation worse. How many times have we been told that when driving a car that is skidding off the road due to hazardous conditions that the best course of action is to steer into the skid? In addition, living with a higher level of chaos, disorder and uncertainty may cause us to crave that certainty on a much higher level.  We may stay in jobs that we are not well suited for, with romantic partners we really have no business being with, and follow religions that dictate and direct our every move. In other words, we may remain stuck in a situation out of an irrational fear of not knowing what may lie on the other side. While stuck where we are, we may fervently cling to a hope that things will get better. But if we are in the wrong place at the wrong time, no amount of hope is going to change our situation.

Only by accepting our current reality and by acknowledging that there is no real ground under our feet will we be prepared to deal with uncertainty while maintaining inner strength and peace. We must not cling to hope as a crutch or an escape from what is really happening. By doing so we may not make the proper adjustments that will enable us to keep moving forward despite what is happening around us. However, we must realize that life does not owe us a thing. We are not entitled to be rich, or happy, or good looking or healthy. If at any time we don’t have one or any of these things, then our acceptance of the situation will make a huge difference between peace and despair. Life is more like a turbulent river than a calm lake. Make peace with the raging rapids as they move you along from place to place, while doing your best to keep your boat, and your head, above water.