Fear of Success

Here’s a story about Younger Me.

Back then, and sometimes even today, part of me wanted to be really good at something, or at least better than my enemies. But I shrunk from the ugliness of my desires. I saw people who were more accomplished and while I wanted a taste of their their success, I didn’t want their ego, their cockiness, their single-track minds and stunted human relationships, not mention their painful relationships with themselves.

I couldn’t align wanting more for myself with the standards I had for how I wanted to treat others and myself.

Trying to escape the tight gnaw of compromise, I shuffled across both sides of the divide with shame.  Sometimes I held back, putting on the painful bearing of false humility that barely hid both my un-lived dreams and resentments towards the people living theirs.  At others, I’d try out the lane of success, pass a few weaker people, “claim what’s mine” and end up with a pocket full of dirty cash that felt too weird to hold onto but definitely paid for a damn nice dinner.

The complications of wanting more/different/better, especially for us sensitive souls, means that sometimes we just get nothing and go nowhere.

Now I see the whole conflict differently, and there is none.

I want to be as big, wild and beautiful as the world around me, because I am part of the beauty I see.

I want to stand as tall as a mountain because the mountain is my sibling and friend and I want to see the world how she does.  Understanding the world her way will help me love and protect her much better.

This is so different from a climbing mountain, real or metaphorical, to make a tick, or a million, a personal best or be as style-y as my rival. This is wondering how I can become worthy to stand by the side of great inspiration and reflect back the beauty it has so shamelessly offered our world.