Failure IS an Option
I don’t mind failure, I relish in it, honestly. Without failure there would be no success, no learning and no growth.
However, just because failure doesn’t scare me, the thought of having to go through a lengthy process like applying for disability more than once is unbelievably daunting now that I am dealing with several chronic illnesses. And since I have the focus of a golden retriever puppy on a walk…
What was I saying? Oh yeah, since I completely lack all concentration whatsoever, I have had to develop some strategies for getting around my deficit. It has been about keeping it simple, being less self-conscious of my mistakes, and looking for positive reinforcement in the smallest of victories.
That was just a list of stuff, so here are some examples: If I want to paint tomorrow, I know I can’t expect to complete a piece start to finish in one day. I have to pare down tasks into steps, or pick smaller goals now, like just sketching my idea out one day and then doing a couple coats of gesso the second day. When something turns out not quite right when I do finally get around to painting on the third day, or maybe the fourth or fifth, I just try to focus on the process more instead of the final result. Even if it turns out looking more like a muddy field than a work of art, if I can use that canvas as a learning tool for teaching myself a new technique (or how not to use a new technique), then I go ahead count it as a victory, whereas before I would have gotten mad at myself.
I think one of the most valuable things that being chronically ill has taught me is how to view failure as success. I have become very good at being my own inner cheerleader (see, I’m doing it right now!). There is always a silver lining, and there always has to be. Every time I find one, I win and Chronic Pain loses. It might not even seem like much at the time that I find the little shiny piece of gold in all the shit, but it is everything when I look back.
This year was the year of perspective and organizing my thoughts, and one of the results is that I finally decided I am not weak. I have been through too much and stayed true to myself for too long to be weak. I might be writing this in a jumbled mess of words that will hardly make sense when I go back and try to fix it up into some semblance of English tomorrow morning over coffee, but I am writing, not wallowing. I’m changing my story by choosing to find the victory in the very small. So that later I can look back and see happiness.