This post is
the second portion of a 2-part post. If you haven't yet read part 1, you can
find it (here).
When was the
last time you went after a goal?
If it took
you more than 10 seconds to think of something, let me ask you this: When was
the last time you set a goal?
You see,
goals are funny to me. When I think of "goals", I think of my early
Mia Hamm days when I was on multiple soccer teams at a time (indoor, outdoor,
club-- you name it). I spent a lot of my weekends at soccer games and
tournaments running up and down the field with a half-pony and a half-idea of
what I was doing. In retrospect I really wasn't that athletic, but the rush I
got from making goals was electric. Never-mind the fact my parents promised
they'd buy me a pack of Pokémon cards for every goal I made in a game; I'm
pretty sure the thrill of working hard at something and seeing the results of
my achievement was the true source of my excitement and post-goal pride [the
possibility of scoring a holographic Mew was just an added bonus].
Did I set
those goals? No; It's the inherent nature of athletic competitions, but if you
think about it, sports are not alone--there are a lot of situations in life
that set standards or set goals for you: grades in school, performance at work,
parental expectations... and the list goes on. These goals are still goals, but
I think sometimes they condition you to think goals are unimportant societal
standards. They dilute the power of goal-setting and in many ways has changed
the conversation to "dreaming" and what it means to "follow your
dreams". It's not cool to talk about setting goals. Don't get me wrong,
I've got nothing against dreaming--but sometimes I think we convince ourselves
that dreams are a fair replacement for goals. Pair a dream with a plan and
the willpower to work and now you've got a goal.
During the
greater portion of this year I found myself longing for an old dream that had
no plan. And do you know what it felt like? Failure. It felt like I had missed
the mark, like I had really let myself down. I had convinced myself I had
failed to meet expectations--but whose? It took me a long time to realize I had
no right to feel defeated because it's not like I had fought and failed.
When I found
myself working a routine job, living in a temporary housing situation,
surrounded by unstable social surroundings I felt defeated. Trying to become
that young, independent, and successful working woman in the heart of Chicago
felt like a goal I needed to abandon. For me, simply abandoning my goal meant
wallowing in my circumstances with the untrue belief I had tried everything in
my power to change them. If you allow yourself to believe that you’ve done all
you can—you cheat yourself from any hope of self-inspired change. Defeat
isn’t an action--it’s a reaction. It’s the final step in recognizing
hopelessness. The greatest way to combat the feeling of hopelessness is to have
faith in your future and confidence in your ability to get there.
The great
news is you’re not alone. Besides the support of true friends and family, you
have a loving God who is the greatest champion for hope and your future. Once I
realized I was pursuing the wrong goal, with the wrong course of action, I
redirected myself with newfound tenacity and earned confidence. [I think
confidence has gotten a bad rep for embodying exuberant perceived happiness.
Confidence is not about embellishing joy at the reputation of exposed
insecurities. Confidence is about true certainty in what you say and do.] To
say my confidence was earned is to say it wasn’t externally given and
consequently revocable.
Once I
gained that confidence, I began my effortless journey to getting what I want.
OK...I’m done laughing--regaining my composure now. Gaining confidence isn’t a
breakthrough moment that alters your world. Confidence is a practice that
requires regular revisiting. It’s not a light-switch moment; It’s finding a
flashlight and remembering to use it every time you’re in a moment of
uncertainty. Recognizing I was not where I wanted to be led to finding where I
should be…and then, working on getting there.
Let me be as
frank as a hot dog: I wasn’t happy at my last job. I knew I needed to make a
change. Not wait for change, hope for change, or ask for change. But
abandoning a goal required a goal to abandon. Before I could make change, I
needed a goal to seek after. I decided I needed to revisit my larger career
goals, and then make plans on how to get there. It’s as simple and as
complicated as that. Maybe one day I’ll get into the details of that
experience, but for now I’ll leave you with the results of the process.
Moving to
Kentucky wasn’t the goal, but it was a change I made to pursue my goal—my goal
of making a career doing something I love. Wanting to be an advertising media
mogul in a city environment isn’t wrong… but it didn’t get to the heart of my
real dream—which was to pursue a career in something that aligned my values, my
skills, and my talents.
Wiping my
figurative vision board took about as long as the time it took to create.
Creating a new vision, likewise didn’t take too much time. Figuring out how to
get there did.
Choosing a
goal isn’t hard, making daring choices is. Making daring choices
requires more than confidence, it requires bravery. I love the way I once heard
speaker and author Jon Acuff* describe bravery:
Bravery is not fun. It’s fun to watch other people have it…[but] you know what bravery feels like? Bravery feels like wanting to cry, wanting to throw-up, like not sleeping very well. Bravery is a choice, not a feeling.
Moving to
Kentucky was not a picturesque moment of easy living. It wasn’t like that college
move-in day full of excitement and anticipation at what’s to come. It was
messy, and scary, and real. It was packing my entire life up, saying goodbye to
familiarity, and driving 8 hours South by myself to a town where I knew nothing
and no one. It was moving to a town where I had no idea where I was going to
live. You want real? I spent my first week in Kentucky living in a motel. Talk
about NYC TV glam! I spent a week living out of suitcases and laundry baskets
in an uncomfortable environment. But do you know what I needed more than an
available apartment with affordable rent?? Bravery!
I want to be
clear that experience does not necessarily breed expertise. I’ve moved A
LOT in my life. Like a lot, a lot. Don’t let that fool you into believing I’m
now comfortably receptive to the massive amount of changes that moving
requires. Sheer repetition might make it easier, but it certainly
doesn’t make it easy.
I’ve been
here just over a month now, and I’m still adjusting to the changes. I’m still
learning my surroundings, and making countless accommodations to challenges I
face. Let me be real transparent: I slept on the floor until I could buy a bed.
My heat didn’t work for a week, so I bought a $10 heater at Walmart to heat my
freezing room at night until I could have the Gas Company come turn on the gas.
I don’t have a microwave, so I cook everything in my Easy Bake Oven. [Ok, I use
my adult oven or stove.] I don’t own any furniture (besides my bed and a
foldable chair), so I either eat on a blanket on the floor or use my kitchen
counter as a tall table. I don’t know where anything is in this town so I still
use my phone’s GPS to guide me just about anywhere. [I used my GPS this past
weekend to locate the Krispy Kreme donuts shop that ended up being 4 minutes
down the road from my apartment.] These are just some of the changes I didn’t
anticipate—the non-glamorous side of starting a new life. These temporary
struggles aren’t moments of personal pride. Choosing bravery and trust
in a compassionate and loving God despite these moments, however, is something
worth celebrating.
This move is
the culmination of a lot of scary challenges and changes, but it’s the start of
some really exciting things, and I am so hopeful of what’s happening and what
is to come.
So thanks
for catching up on my life by reading this. I hope it inspires you to move to
Kentucky. OK, not really, but I hope it inspires you to set your goals, face
your fears and choose bravery. I’m not here to say it’s easy; I’m here to
say it’s worth it.
I’ll leave
you with this
awesome quote from another great speaker and author, Brené Brown:
“We’re all
afraid. We just have to get to the point where we understand that doesn’t mean
we can’t also be brave.”
So go be
brave my friends and watch what happens! I look forward to the blog posts to come from this amazing
adventure.
* If
you want to hear a great talk on experiencing “Do Overs” in life, I
highly recommend this
podcast from Jon Acuff.