Foreword: I realize that you may not take this post as I intended, and I am sorry if that is the case. As always, take what is useful to you and leave the rest.

I worry that I’m not enough

I feel that I should be stronger, faster, and quicker to admit fault. That I should be more loving, more prone to trust over suspicion. That I should be more open, more willing to let people in. That I should be able to provide more. That I should be a better boss. That I should listen more and talk less. That I should take more time to connect, and more time to feel.

I feel that I should be more than I am today. In a way I am right, I should be. But I am where I am today. If I’m doing the best I can, shouldn’t that be enough? I know this feeling is completely irrational. My logical side has explained this to me more times than I care to count. But I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I should be more than I am.

And where I am going matters more than where I have been. Like the weather, some days are stormy. Sometimes I flounder. Sometimes I weaken. And sometimes, I fail. But even then, what matters is that I pick myself up, and try to be better.

To be better today than I was yesterday. To see how I can be better tomorrow than I was today. To do all I can day after day. To know I did the best that I could. To know that I am the only one who knows if I did my best. To know that I am the only one who can forgive myself when I don’t do my best. This is enough. I am enough.

I know that if I do my best, it is enough.

I worry that I’ll hurt her

I learned something about myself after wrestling for a year in high school. I learned that I have a hard time hurting someone. To be a good wrestler you have to at least make your opponent uncomfortable. But to become a great wrestler you must accept that you may hurt your opponent. You have to twist, pry, grapple, and warp them into submission. Wrestling can be as much a test of pain tolerance as actual technique or physical endurance, and that never sat well with me. I quit wrestling after one year.

Now, I’m not a pacifist by any stretch of the imagination. I believe that there is a time for violence. I believe that if my country, my family, or my own life were in mortal danger, I would be willing to take a life. But I know that there is a price for violence, and I have no wish to pay that price. Violence scars your soul and numbs your spirit.

My worry is that I will say something, do something, or represent something that will hurt her. I am not as worried about doing this on purpose as I am about doing it on accident, or when I’m not thinking. I have a hard time understanding certain points of view, and there are things that I just can’t understand or relate to. I also have a hard time empathizing when I don’t have a proper frame of reference. I am worried that because of this, I will act in a way that will cause her pain.

I realize I may cause pain when reaching out to help someone. I realize that I cannot be completely responsible for her feelings. I realize that I am imperfect and may make a mess of things. I realize that I don’t always think before speaking. I realize that there are some things I just don’t understand. I realize that I say things out of context. I realize that I don’t understand everything that is going on.

I realize this, and I will be kind. I will show compassion. I will be calm. I will think before I speak. I will hold my tongue. I will listen to understand. I will empathize. I will learn to understand. I will forgive. I will reach out. I will open up. I will show you that I love you every day.

I know that if I reach out, it is enough.

I worry that it won’t work out

Growing up, I wasn’t surrounded by good examples of marriage. Several of my friends’ parents were divorced, and the other marriages I saw weren’t happy ones either. My own parents never divorced, but they did not have a good marriage either. I left for college wanting no part in anything related to marriage.

In 2007 I left Novell to start a company with a co-worker and his brother-in-law. As we worked together, I got to know them and their families. And while neither of their marriages were perfect, both of my business partners were happy and fulfilled. Over time, my notions and feelings about marriage began to change. I came to believe that a good marriage was possible, and that it could be worth it.

As our business grew, my priorities started to change. I came to realize that what I want out of life are two things. The first is a continuous supply of challenges and hard problems that are worth solving. The second is someone to share those experiences with. I had as much as I wanted of the former, but none of the latter.

I realized that what I want is a companion. Someone I can share the thrills of life and the pains of defeat with. Someone I can serve, and be completely open with. Someone I can grow old with, knowing that we are devoted to each other. Someone I can commit to for the rest of my life. Someone I can respect. Someone I can connect to. Someone I can love.

And then I realize I am afraid. I am afraid it will end in divorce. I am afraid she won’t love me. I am afraid she won’t accept my faults. I am afraid that I will lose her. I am afraid to let her see the real me. I am afraid to let her in. I am afraid to take the chance.

But I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. I know it will be worth it. I know I will rise to the challenge. I know I will do my part. I know I will feel fulfilled. I know I will find what I am looking for. I know it is possible. I know I should take the chance.

I know that if I take the chance, it is enough.

In Summary

I still have my doubts and fears, but I move forward every day. I will grow and learn, struggle and overcome. I will do my best, reach out, and take the chance. And while I still worry, I have hope.

Thank you.

P.S. “Just Keep Swimming” — Dory, Finding Nemo