Sunday, March 29, 2015

I am A Failure

I don't succeed in the long-haul at anything. I am a continual failure. Can you relate?


Looking In I can see how Broken I am


Oh, don't we all love the sayings about how nice it is to fail because that is the only way you will ever succeed; Or it is ok to fail as long as you fail forward; Or it doesn't matter how many times you fail as long as you keep trying to succeed?

Well, can it not also be true that some people do not EVER succeed? So those cute little sayings about you might as well try because if you never fail you will never have a chance to succeed, can really get old. Especially when you have not had much success in life. Do you ever feel that way?

So what have I done:

I graduated high school, but amazingly so did everyone in my high school class. It was just what you did; you finished; you graduated.

I went to college to be a psychologist. I was going to go to school for 8 years. But, ended up getting married after 3. So, I then went to school to be a practical nurse to have some kind of employable skill when I was young and married. Before I got hired as a nurse, I oddly was hired by a bank as a teller. I quit it after about a month because I felt like an automated teller machine.


Then, I got hired as a secretary. They wanted me to learn shorthand. I went to night school and studied it but could barely do it. My normal penmanship was so bad. How could I shorthand? So I pretended to do shorthand and then type up letters from what I could remember.

I then got a job as a secretary typing from a legal pad. I was a horrible proofreader. My boss always found mistakes and I didn't know anything about the topics he was writing about so I didn't know if I got a word right or not.

My husband finally graduated from college....

So I went to college to be a teacher. I figured could do that while my future children went to school. I loved school. I graduated with honors, certified pre-k through 8th grade. I guess that was the very first thing I ever did successful in my entire life, but little good came from it. I was hired in a big city and put in some of the most difficult inner city schools. I taught half a year in a first grade class and winged it. Then the next year I set up my own classroom for Kindergarten.  By November, I was sitting in my classroom crying because I could not handle disciplining the students, especially coming from my abusive childhood background. I LOVED to teach but didn't have time to do that because the students were so undisciplined. And I didn't know how to control them. So I failed. No one helped me, not the other teachers, the principal or anyone in administration. I couldn't cut it so they let me go. Why did no one encourage me or offer to help?

When I left teaching, I was pregnant with my first child, and then we decided to homeschool. I was a disaster of a mother. I was no good at living in a fixer-up home with a new fussy baby. I had no one to help me. I was a failure. Having children gave me continual trauma triggers from my horrific child abuse past, but no one would help me. No one would listen to me when I asked for help. I asked many people but they avoided me like the plague. Did I scare them?

I wanted to be one of those picture book moms that celebrated the holidays, had cute birthday parties, enjoyed their children and loved spending time with them. I imagined a love fest being a mom with my precious little ones, but it never was like that. It was a constant struggle, crying, fits, whining, arguing, complaining, etc. Nothing I ever did was liked or wanted or successful. And sadly, I could easily crack. I would get upset, cry, and be frustrated with myself. Sometimes, I would get very angry.

Homeschooling was not any better. I longed to teach, but my children didn't want to be taught by me. Still 20 years later and the last child to finish high school doesn't want to be taught by me. I was a homeschool mother failure. I hated public schools and didn't want to put my children in and have them tormented but we could not afford private schools and by that point I was not mentally or emotionally stable enough to work, even part-time. The trauma triggers were too frequent and I was not stable. Again, no one would help me. Not my in-laws, not my church, not my extended family that had lots of money. Nope! I was left to fail alone.

Eventually, I got therapy, after being suicidal 15 years ago. I got on medication and endured difficult brain trauma therapy and I pushed myself because I wanted to be the best person I could be. I wanted this life of failure to end. I wanted to be able to make friends and keep them. I wanted to be a good mother and friend.

Three years ago I completed over ten long years of weekly therapy. And though I am QUITE thankful that I did this, my life has not changed all that much.

I am now older and not as able to work as I was 15 years ago. My body aches after a long day of teaching and the students in the classrooms can be so unruly. Yes, I still LOVE to teach but cannot find a good place for me to do it. I am so frustrated with myself and my life.

I know I have helped a person here or there. I know I have brightened various people's day by a kind word or gesture, but over all I still feel like a failure. I have milk-toast relationships with my children. And only one relationship that I would call "a dear friend" because we talk more than once a week and really know what is happening in each other's life. Also, I love my husband, but know I fall so short of being who he wants me to be. I am a horrible homemaker, even though I want to be better. I am a mess, a junk collector, too distracted to get the house organized or clean. I make dinner maybe once or twice a week. I will never live up to what he wants, I will always fall short. I am a failure at "family".

I can write, but no one reads it, or so few; what is even it worth? What value does my stupid blogs of my raw honest words have? The world would still turn and the sun would rise and set without them. No one is waiting, longing for the next post. If everyone of my words stopped tomorrow, no one would notice or care.

By what measure, by what standard, what is success or failure? By any, I am a failure. I fall short. I always will. And that is the truth. Like it or not.

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Of course, I know in my head and even sometimes in my heart, I believe Jesus is the measure and the standard, therefore, I will always fall short. I know that Jesus gives me grace, provides the distance from my failure to what He wants to me be. Still, this knowledge of truth just doesn't always --practically--seems to work out in real life. I still find myself in slumps.

I wonder:

Do others struggle? Do people who lead and seem together, crumble, like I do?

I don't know.
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Before I sent this to be published I read back over it, fixing errors of grammar and editing for content. I don't know the purpose it serves to publish it; I just know that I am compelled to be real, transparent, just so maybe someone else in the world that runs across this post will know that they are not alone; so that they will know other people struggle, have doubts, get down on themselves, and somehow don't stop, but continue on. Not because anything life-changing has happened, but simply because they are still alive and as God says, "His mercies are new every morning."

I guess it is a good thing that even though I am a failure; God is not. I guess that is the whole sum of life for me.

What is it for you?





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