I've been phenomenally lucky over the past five (or, really, fifteen) years in that while I've struggled with my ups and downs, diagnoses and treatments and lack thereof, I've managed to hold things together professionally. In fact, I've excelled, or at least my achievement has remained in the upper echelons of what could be expected. Recently, I embarked upon a hugely new, highly risky endeavor, and there is a non-trivial chance that I will fail.
Part of the reason I'm so terrified of failure is that I'm not used to it. Another, and I think deeper, reason is that I'm afraid that if I fail, it will be because of my illness, because of an intractable truth of my biology or psychology. If I fail, it could mean that my illness is starting to take over my life. If I fail, it could mean that the illness has caused me to fail. If the illness causes me to fail once, it could cause me to fail over and over again. Maybe my illness is like a tsunami underwater, appearing tranquil until one day the waves reach a mile high and wreak chaos on the life I've fought so hard for.
I understand that I could fail at something because I don't try hard enough. I could fail because of a random event, or I could fail because I just don't have the capacity to achieve a certain goal. I recognize that, rationally, that failure could be a one time, non catastrophic event, but every time I start to slip, get a bad grade on an exam or have a suboptimal workout or a bad first date, I feel that tidal wave growing (again), rising inside of me and threatening to destroy everything that I've worked so hard for.
It's like there is a whole brood of adorable puppies inside of me, but one of them is rabid. I don't know which one, and every time I hear a dog bark I wonder if its the rabid one, and if he's escaped, and if he's going to attack me or someone I love. When I take the dogs for a walk I agonize over the length of the lease and maintain exhausting concentration, because the risk of failure is enormously high when you think that one failure could lead to a lifetime of failures, the end of the war, a crushing defeat.
So far, the obvious solution has been to keep all the dogs locked up all the time. That's neither a sustainable or humane (to me) option, but I haven't found a better one (a retractable leash? a safe dog pen to take risks in?) yet.
Part of the reason I'm so terrified of failure is that I'm not used to it. Another, and I think deeper, reason is that I'm afraid that if I fail, it will be because of my illness, because of an intractable truth of my biology or psychology. If I fail, it could mean that my illness is starting to take over my life. If I fail, it could mean that the illness has caused me to fail. If the illness causes me to fail once, it could cause me to fail over and over again. Maybe my illness is like a tsunami underwater, appearing tranquil until one day the waves reach a mile high and wreak chaos on the life I've fought so hard for.
I understand that I could fail at something because I don't try hard enough. I could fail because of a random event, or I could fail because I just don't have the capacity to achieve a certain goal. I recognize that, rationally, that failure could be a one time, non catastrophic event, but every time I start to slip, get a bad grade on an exam or have a suboptimal workout or a bad first date, I feel that tidal wave growing (again), rising inside of me and threatening to destroy everything that I've worked so hard for.
It's like there is a whole brood of adorable puppies inside of me, but one of them is rabid. I don't know which one, and every time I hear a dog bark I wonder if its the rabid one, and if he's escaped, and if he's going to attack me or someone I love. When I take the dogs for a walk I agonize over the length of the lease and maintain exhausting concentration, because the risk of failure is enormously high when you think that one failure could lead to a lifetime of failures, the end of the war, a crushing defeat.
So far, the obvious solution has been to keep all the dogs locked up all the time. That's neither a sustainable or humane (to me) option, but I haven't found a better one (a retractable leash? a safe dog pen to take risks in?) yet.
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