My fear of failure wants to ruin my life.
Well, maybe that's a little harsh.
My fear of failure doesn't want to ruin my life, it just wants to keep me really comfortable. It wants me to never experience pain or uncertainty or vulnerability. That might be a goal worth achieving, if not for this unfortunate reality: no pain or uncertainty or vulnerability means no love no fun no art no nothing at all that makes a difference in the world.
And that's just not the life that I want. And so, regrettably, my well intentioned fear of failure has become my enemy. And since every enemy deserves a name, let's give it one. Let's call it the the Fear Monster.
The Fear Monster doesn't want me to take any risks. The Fear Monster loves when I sit at home watching TV: "You can't get hurt watching TV, can you? No, not at all. This is safe. This is a great idea. Stay right here."
Since the Fear Monster never sleeps, I'm always on guard. Always fighting it, always protecting my work work from it.
And this fight never ends, because the Fear Monster shape shifts.
For instance: I get butterflies before I speak in front of a crowd - that's an early form of the Fear Monster. I've defeated that form, though. Yeah, I still get butterflies, but I use that to egg me on. Butterflies encourage me, they don't stop me from speaking.
And the Fear Monster knows that, so it takes new forms. Instead of raw fear and butterflies, it starts to mature. I get afraid that I'll offend someone, afraid that I'll damage relationships that are important to me.
"Don't be too bold, all these people are going to despise you ... ".
That's a new form. And once I get that one licked, you better bet the Fear Monster will take yet a new form.
And it's never gonna stop; I'm in this fight for life.
A life full of work that matter is a life at war with the Fear Monster.
I better get comfortable.