Failure, Commitment, and Redemption

 

In honor of the Race for the Cure and Mother’s Day, I initially wanted to write this one just for the ladies. I wanted this to be an uplifting story about how I’m constantly in awe of my mom friends and how much I admire my own mom. This is all true. I can’t tell my friends enough, what amazing moms I think they are. To be completely candid, I have moments when I feel like my life isn’t as important because I’m not a parent. That’s just not where the cards fell for me. Most times I believe it’s for the best, sometimes I wish things could be different, and a lot of times, I just think I wouldn’t be able to cut it as a parent.

It’s that feeling that changed the direction of this story. We all feel inadequate in some way, at some point. It’s important to let go of these feelings and recognize the good in ourselves. We all have shortcomings, but we also have ways in which we shine. It can be easy to get caught in the pit of insecurities and forget about the things we have going for us. This is a struggle men and women can both relate to. In fact, sometimes I think it can be harder for men. Guys aren’t supposed to be vulnerable or admit their insecurities. (That’ll probably be a topic for another blog). As I mentioned, circumstances inspired a different kind of story than I had originally intended. So this post is for everyone. Men and women, parents and singles, athletes and couch potatoes. There are things we can all relate to.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I’d submitted 3 stories to a writing contest back in February. I received the results in my Inbox two weeks ago. I didn’t win a damn thing. The rejection email didn’t explain much except that there were roughly 400 entrants in the contest. It wouldn’t have mattered if there were 40 or 4,000. The rejection stings just the same. I’ve been getting accustomed to those kinds of emails lately as I’ve been searching for a job in a different department of my company. I knew it was going to be difficult, I just had no idea it would be this hard.

For me, the best way to forget these work week frustrations is with a long Saturday run. In general I thoroughly enjoy the peace and freedom of Saturdays to myself. This particular Saturday, I was looking forward to an extra long run followed by watching the Penguins win game 6 of the Stanley Cup playoffs. I certainly had more confidence in the Pens than I had in myself lately.

They did not win.

They lost in OT.

It felt like a gut punch.

The next morning was humid and dreary as I lagged through my typical recovery run. It started to rain about ten minutes in. Perfect. But actually, it was kind of perfect. The day matched my mood. It was overcast, quiet, and heavy. In addition to my own recent failings, my team had lost their chances for the Cup, and I’d had a stomach ache  that kept me awake. Fatigue and the weight of things made me feel like I was running under water. This was going to be a day to simmer in disappointment. Simmering can be a good thing when it gives you time to find the lesson in the hurting. You just can’t dwell in that place too long.

But that’s where I’d been for a couple of weeks. I even contemplated scrapping this blog site altogether. I mean, if I’m not good enough for a stupid little contest… what am I even doing? I had to remind myself that its not about being good. I do it because I like it. And, inexplicably, some of you like what I have to say and find it thought-provoking. Bless you for that. That’s why I do this.

I was actually working on a different version of this blog, when it took yet another turn. I had escaped to an empty conference room on my lunch break. Writing and listening to music is how I decompress. I was completely lost in my head when one of my coworkers crept up from behind the cubicle divider. She was a little hesitant to interrupt me.

“Are you still collecting money for the race on Sunday?”

I took my ear buds out and looked at her, a little surprised.”Really? Are you sure? I think everyone else forgot.”

“Yep, I’m sure. Take it!”

It was a sweet gesture from a sweet lady. I was elated. I took her cash, thanked her and immediately made a donation on her behalf. Later in the day, my coworker Sean handed me a cash envelope with my name scribbled on it. I took it, almost in disbelief.

“This is from me and Quinn.”

My heart melted. I probably had a dumb ass grin on my face the whole drive home. When I stopped at Giant Eagle, I checked my phone and saw that another coworker had donated the remaining amount I needed to reach my goal. Now I was getting totally verklempt. And it didn’t stop there, later that evening my brother had added to the total. The next day, another coworker, and then a coworker and his wife donated. Even after the race, another friend made his donation. It was all too much for my poor soft heart. My eyes welled up and I felt that familiar lump in my throat. I’m getting emotional even now. I was overwhelmed by the generosity and support.

Until this time, I’ve always been terrible at fundraising. I’d tried and been frustrated in the past, but for whatever reason, I kept trying. It might be just a little bit of money to those that contributed, but to me it meant a renewed sense of purpose- that means everything.

I started writing this post with the intent of inspiring others to overcome their insecurities. But my own sense of failure and disappointment had been stalling me. So this encouragement came to me when I truly needed it the most. Small gestures can leave an enormous impact.

It means so much to feel like I’m making some kind of difference. That’s what we’re here for, after all. That’s what gives me the motivation to keep running. It’s what makes me happy to be working where I am. With support like that, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason I haven’t found a new job yet. I really don’t know; I only pray that I make the right decisions and find the way to what is meant for me.

If life were to turn out exactly the way we planned, it would probably be too boring. Failure is a part of life. It’s meant to teach us and sometimes redirect us. The most we can do is put our best effort into the life we have. Engage with the people, places, and things that surround us. Because the impact you have on someone else’s life might just be worth all that work.

…And as for the Pens, there’s always next year!