I’ve failed

Failure is such an ugly word. It speaks of shame and inadequacy and weakness. It is something to keep hidden and buried, never to be mentioned, so as to not show others the truth of our abilities. It’s a secret to be kept.
 
For too many years I have allowed fear of failure dictate my choices. If I was unsure I would succeed and be able to accomplish a goal in my own strength, I wouldn’t even make an attempt. I would stick to the shallow end, splashing in puddles where I knew I was safe instead of surfing the big waves of uncertainty.
 
I’ve believed that failure meant I was unworthy, not good enough, inadequate, limited, and it dictated my identity. I was only worth what I was able to accomplish and acceptance came through triumphs.
 
Failure has set me free.
 
I’m learning to embrace the entirety of who I am in all my weaknesses. I am more beautiful in my vulnerability than I could ever be in my strengths because my failure allows room for redemption, grace, and forgiveness.
 
My failure creates more space for Jesus.
 
I am weak. I am unable. Therefore, I am in a position to be on my knees before Jesus and ask for His power and His strength to come through on my behalf. My inability leads to dependence on the One who is able.
 
Oftentimes, finding the chinks in my armor is a challenge to strengthen my limitations. No longer will I perpetuate the lie that I must present a façade of perfection. I am not perfect nor will I ever be perfect, therefore I won’t pretend to be something I’m not.
 
There is a grief with this realization. I believed that if I acted as if I had it all together on the outside, somehow I would eventually have it all together on the inside. I’ve had to mourn being the woman I want others to think I am. I’ve had to accept that sometimes I’m ridiculous, emotional, afraid, and that I don’t have my act together. I’ve had to be vulnerable and admit I need help.
 
I am free to fail because I finally understand that it doesn’t change who I am.