to realize that the reasons we gave for not fully committing to our dreams were nothing more than a charade. It was just a pretense to disguise all the internal fears and doubts that were controlling our lives. In other words, the phony excuses that may have seemed logical and valid to the average listener were simply a cover-up for the subconscious, and often less credible, reasons that were holding us back.
For instance, one of the countless reasons I gave for not fully committing to my goals was I didn’t want to neglect my children by not being there for them. Using this excuse kept me from feeling guilty about not fulfilling my purpose. What excuses are you using? Do you think it’s too late? Are you procrastinating because you don’t have enough experience, or the right connections? Perhaps you’ve been delaying going back to school to get the degree you need to obtain a greater quality of life because you’ve convinced yourself you don’t have the time, money, or support.
Or, is your excuse similar to mine — your loved ones (mother, father, son, daughter, spouse, etc.) — need you? Whatever your excuse, I’m here to tell you that it’s time to give yourself permission to live through your potential. As I pondered why I was once again beginning to talk myself out of advancing my life and career, I was interrupted by the flight attendant. She asked if I wanted a glass of wine. Exhausted, I said, “Yes, a Cabernet please. I really need one.”
“Rough day?” she asked.
“No, just overwhelmed with reality,” I replied in a tone of accepted defeat.
As I enjoyed the subtle aftertaste of berries, plums, and ripened grapes, I watched passengers board the plane. I wondered just how many of them were disguising secret fears and doubts. Were they feeling hopelessly locked into the day-to-day routine of merely existing? I wondered. If someone asked, what superficial excuses would they give for not going after the bigger things in life? What were their internal hang-ups? Was it the idea of failing, succeeding, or never trying?
I began having another mental conversation with God. Our talk quickly escalated to an intense, passionate plea. “God!” I cried, “I just spent three days with a group of people who were as lost as I am. Yes, the retreat helped reconnect me to my dreams and passion; and yes it was rejuvenating. But the plane hasn’t even left the ground yet, and I have already thought of a half-dozen reasons why I would never be able to implement any of the information learned. God, I really want to know why this keeps happening. Why can’t I break free from the internal heckler that keeps me focused on the limitations and impossibilities of life?
The announcement blasted over the plane’s audio system that the doors were about to close. So I handed my empty wine glass to the flight attendant, adjusted myself, and buckled my seatbelt. For a moment, my internal chatter settled down as I watched the flight attendant demonstrate the in-flight safety procedures.
As the plane ascended, I began feeling a sense of comfort in the puffy, white billows of clouds outside my window. The view was tranquil and relaxing. But instead of indulging in it, I became frustrated about the idea of returning home a failure. After all, nothing had really changed.
All the encouragement I had received during the retreat to embrace my passion meant very little in the scheme of things. No matter what I did, things would still be the same. Living my passion, accomplishing big things, having a purpose, experiencing success, hell, that’s for special people, I thought. And I ain’t one of them!
Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed by feelings of intense sorrow. Tears began to run down my face and I cried uncontrollably. Once again that dark “something” that is always hovering over my life took possession of my thoughts. Every time that happened, my efforts fell flat and I would, again, submit to a life of mediocrity. But why the sorrow and tears? Simple. I was mourning another failed attempt to break free from the internal chains that kept me in my limited existence.
Every link of the chain had been forged over the years by the sadistic reminders of what I couldn’t do because of my race, status, or gender. Now the painful thoughts that fortified this chain were reverberating in my mind. Every negative word that had been said to me over the years began to flood my mind. Things like:
“You’re a peon, and you’ll always be a peon.”
“You need to learn how to stay in your place.”
“You have a Champagne mind, with a soda pop purse.”
“You’re just like your damn daddy. He ain’t shit, and you ain’t gonna be shit either!”
“Women are supposed to be seen, not heard.”
“No matter how much education or money you have, a Black person will always be less than everybody else.”
“You gotta a baby. Ain’t no man gonna want you.”
“Get your head out of the clouds and face reality. Ain’t nothing special about you?”
“If God wanted you to have better, you would have it by now.”
“If your prayers are not being answered, then you’re not praying hard enough, fasting long enough, or paying enough tithes.”
“A Black person can’t, and a woman never will.”
The rattling of each link in this chain grew louder and louder, and I couldn’t make it stop! I felt an excruciating pain in my heart, but I couldn’t scream. It ached to the point of nausea. My sadness became more intense and the tears flowed incessantly. I wished that I could forcefully vomit out all the negative and malicious words locked inside my head, and the memories attached to them. Then I could be free from the darkness inside me that was always waiting to kill my hopes and sabotage my efforts. I kept thinking, If only I could throw up!
Having no control over my emotions, I continued to stare out the window of the plane, thankful that no one was sitting next to me. I figured that if the other passengers noticed me crying they would think it was because I had left a loved one behind.
My mind began to shift back to my conversation with God and why this one-step-forward, three-steps-backwards dance keeps happening. I also wondered again what God meant by me being responsible for my dilemma. I demanded that He tell me WHY? Why did success in life and love always seem to elude me? Why did I have to fight for everything I had, and still come up short? Why did I identify more with a victim mentality, and less with the mind of a champion? WHY?
Just as quickly as the crying started, a silent calm came over me. The disparaging thoughts had instantly vanished. A rare, indescribable peace swept over me. What just happened? I wondered. Maybe I had just experienced a momentary, psychological meltdown. Hell, maybe I was bi-polar and didn’t know it. I’m sure if a psychiatrist had observed my actions and heard my thoughts, he or she would have been writing me a prescription and scheduling my next appointment.
The Word is Given
While drying my eyes, I looked again at the billowy clouds. Then a word came over me so swiftly and powerfully that it literally shocked me. It was compelling and clear-cut. Yes, I had demanded an answer from God, but in all honesty, I didn’t expect to get an answer — well not right then. I was used to having to wait sometimes weeks or months for any kind of clarity of thought or wisdom. Sometimes, I didn’t get an answer at all. But it appeared this time I got the answer I needed just when I needed it.
I referenced an African proverb in the introduction, but it’s worth mentioning again: “When you understand the whys of life, you can endure any how.” The word God gave me helped me to better understand why I had unintentionally been sabotaging myself
