It’s called, “I don’t know what to do.” Those six disempowering words rush out of my mouth every time I’m afraid…or worse, every time I need to make a hard decision.
Can you relate?
By telling myself I don’t know what to do, I’m skirting responsibility for my decisions, my life. When the words tumble out of my mouth, I immediately grit my teeth.
Why do I say this? Why do I NEED to say this?
Whenever I do this kind of crap, I always feel like somebody has taken a sledge hammer to beautiful limousine.
Pictures flash across my mind. I know exactly why I say those words. I remember as a child all the messages I received about my intelligence. I wasn’t smart enough.
And those messages that a child isn’t smart enough trickles down to every layer of her body, and right into the marrow of the bone.
How do you undo such programming? It takes a commitment to living fuller and bolder. Not many people want that, but I do.
Now I seek to root out such disempowering abominations because I see them as an attack on my intelligence and my faith.
Now I take a step back and listen to what’s behind that frantic statement, I don’t know what to do.
As always, it’s fear. It’s the fear that maybe I really am stupid, that my perceptions are missing a vital piece of information, that I am somehow so fatally flawed that I cannot make the right decision.
Instinctively, I want to toss the reins to someone more clever, someone with a keener perception, to someone other than me.
Every time that I have done that, I have paid a heavy price. So here’s what I know.
The only way out is through.
When I utter those words now I know it’s a warning sign, a signal that I have just challenged myself to a duel. Am I going to let fear win…again?
I am so tired of living with doubt and fear. So tired, in fact, that I am willing to do something about it.
That commitment to opening my heart, opening my mind, and opening my faith in myself has changed how I look at the challenges before me.
And you know what? I can figure this stuff out.
Sometimes it means walking away for a bit, allowing my subconscious mind to take over. It means surrendering to a power greater than myself.
It means letting go. Who would have thought the answer to a self-limiting belief would be to turn it over to a power greater than myself?
But that’s exactly what it means. It means allowing myself to be vulnerable, to be human, and not to expect me to be the all powerful Oz. (And we all know how that turned out, right?)
Of course, at the heart of fear is shame. That’s what controls the words coming out of my mouth. “I’m not good enough!” “If I have to make this judgment, then it’s wrong.”
The lovely and powerful Brene Brown sums it beautifully. And these are words to live by and follow.
I certainly do.