As long as I can remember, I’ve
wanted to matter. Matter economically, spiritually, physically, in every way
that one could matter.
I hear I am smart. I have the
evidence to show for it too. I therefore think I am smart. So why then does my ‘smarts’
not generate the financial results that it should? So I despise it.
I hear I am eloquent. I have a
way with words. I have the evidence also to show for it. I speak and people
perk up. They listen, they act. So why am I not convinced by the words that I
speak to myself? Why do I doubt my results, and limit myself due to the fears
of imposter syndrome? So I disbelieve it.
I hear I am beautiful. Black
goddess, ebony queen, captivating eyes. Endless legs and a smile that wins
hearts. LOL. I’ve 2 beauty pageant crowns to show for it. But somehow, it is not captivating
enough to get ‘him’ to commit. So distrust it.
I remain on this self- sabotaging
carousel of insecurity, saying the right things, going through the motions,
grateful for the wins, despondent about the losses, crawling back into my
shell, unwilling to try again. Afraid.
Until. I rally myself. Bolstered
by just enough courage to try again. Almost welcoming the hit that is sure to
come. Totally excited, surprised and grateful when it’s a win. Happy that I
took the chance, stuck my head out, and did it, afraid.
For isn’t that what courage is?
Stepping out to do even with full knowledge of the risks and impending certain
failure? Yet persuaded enough by the glimmer of success to try? And for every
sweet win, I’ll spread that molasse of sticky sugary goodness, over the hateful
ever whispering voice that says “You. Do. Not. Matter.” I’ll pull out every
glittering beautiful image, and grateful thank you from lives impacted, undeniable
evidence that smiles and says “I.Do.”
