Anything Worth Doing Is Worth Doing Poorly...

I experienced an unexpected and very stressful situation this morning, and suddenly my chest started hurting and I got a stabbing pain in my right shoulder blade (my body's particular stress center) along with an urgent need to sell my house and quietly move out into the middle of nowhere where no one can talk to me or want anything from me or expect me to be in charge of anything.

I don't want to brag, but I think these physical and emotional responses show how much I've grown during this time of weirdness. I didn't curl up into the fetal position, and that is an improvement.

Most of my worst stress comes about as a result of the difference between what other people expect from me (or my perception of same) versus what I can actually do or what I am actually willing to do. There's still that people-pleaser part of me ready to castigate myself for not living up to all expectations, realistic or otherwise. Also, my ability to deal with stress has greatly diminished over the years. Instead of rolling up my sleeves and getting things done, I find myself paralyzed and overwhelmed with indecision and despair over even the stupidest and smallest of stresses--never mind the big, urgent stresses! That might be my shattered adrenal glands talking, or it might be that, as I've aged, I have less confidence. Being young means you're much more confident because you don't know what you don't know, and not knowing what you can't do leads to doing the impossible. I happen to know that I don't know very much of anything at all by now.

What I am ironically perfect at is second-guessing myself.

Also ironic is that the older I've grown, the better I am at faking confidence. Some people I know are convinced I'm a competent adult. Joke's on them!

I take some comfort in Zig Ziglar's quote, "Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly--until you can learn to do it well," as a counter to what Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, notably penned in 1746, "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well," which has been the perfectionists' mantra for centuries.

Doing something poorly means that at least you're doing something rather than nothing. While I do acknowledge the fact that, in some cases, doing something poorly screws things up worse than doing nothing at all (which is the basis of some of the most hilarious and heart-breaking book and movie plots), the overall implication is that doing something is better than doing nothing at all because at least you're taking an action; and allowing yourself to do something poorly--at least the first time or two or three--gives you the room to grow and learn and begin to do it well.

This is what I teach my kids, even while I struggle with it myself: that every thing they do will come with a learning curve, but that they can overcome the curve every single time. Sometimes the curve is low and things are easy, and sometimes the curve is really steep and hard, though it's ultimately climbable. The key is to take the first step, to do something poorly at first, if that's what it takes.

We never watch our infants learning to walk, and when they fall, tell them that they're failures for not knowing how to walk right away. No, we tell them to get up and try again, knowing they will eventually succeed. How do we know? Because we were each toddlers at one time learning to walk. We know it can be done. We know they will eventually figure out their balance and gain small motor control, and then their chubby little bodies will work in coordination with their growing brains and they'll get it. In fact, we know they'll get it so well that they'll soon be able to run.

Why is it so hard to feel that sure of our adult selves?

I like to imagine our Heavenly Father, who is all-loving and perfectly aware of every single one of us and our struggles and triumphs, watching me continually falling on my butt (harder and more painfully now than when I was less than two feet tall) and saying, with infinite love, "Look at you! You got so much farther that time! You're getting it, my girl!" Well, I don't have to imagine if I'm praying. I get that encouragement whenever I pray, along with advice for how to do things better, if I'm prepared to ask and then listen.

That's my sermon to myself today. Thanks for coming along. I write things out as a way to order my thoughts, and this is one of the sermons I want to remember for later because I know I'll need it.