You Can Figure Out the Landing as You Fall with Style

I love learning. Unsurprisingly, I have lots of memories of falling growing up. I would fall enough times every day to gain several new bruises and scrapes. I fell hundreds of times on my big brother’s roller skates, fell equally as many times off his bike (evidently too small for his equipment) — I remember being hit by a lorry and getting thrown off my tricycle when I was about four. I somehow survived a landing to tell the tale. This could have been the lesson: focus on the flying (or falling in slow motion) and figure out the landing while in the air. Curiously — maybe inevitably — I became more and more fearful as I grew up.

Falling began to mean I wasn’t perfect when I should be. Somehow I began to believe that self-secured perfection was the only worthy goal in life. It also became synonymous with excellence. If something wasn’t perfect it could not possibly be excellent. If I could not be the best, I was the worst. It was not fun, though, because as soon as I would become quite confident at something someone would come along who was ten times better and would make it look effortless.

Over the next decade or so, I was only concerned with what I could do well enough to have people believe I could be close to perfect. I hid the rest. I would set the bar low and move on fast, or, attempt something impressive and wrestle daily with the anxiety that came with knowing I could not deliver.

I stopped creating in many ways because being judged for my work was the same thing as being judged for who I was, a person I was not proud of. On the outset I appeared to be ill-disciplined and distracted and I became more of these things the longer I felt uninspired. Accepting I was lazy and apathetic was much easier than admitting I was terrified of messing up. The craziest of all crazy cycles, isn’t it!

In 2013, someone I’d never met before told me something I never expected to hear.

‘Stop trying so hard… You will do more by accident than on purpose.’ Flashback to my childhood: it made me think of the things I had ‘accidentally’ become good at. I never tried to be the best at those things; I just revelled in them. Then, the reward was mostly the action not the result. Being excellent came as a result of being who I was, and by experiencing something that made my heart leap, as the person I was. It did not come as a result of trying to be good at something that never made me tick in the first place.

Sadly, this is how we are often taught at home and in schools — outcomes outweigh self-discoveries. We end up caring so much bout how to get good at the things we are not naturally good at that we force ourselves to become a hybrid-self (‘not quite me but not quite someone else’). All because being bad at something is perceived as being ‘incomplete’. I think there are benefits to improving on the things we are bad at, but, the goal should be identity and character development independent of achievement.

Being excellent came as a result of being who I was, and by experiencing something that made my heart leap, as the person I was.

Where have I got to now? Well, this is why I’ve started this page. Since 2016, it has been easier to attempt things for simple reasons. I had begun to throw myself into what makes me feel alive rather than what makes me appear accomplished (equals admirable equals worthy equals lovable). I’ve listened to a few Bréne Brown talks (as anyone should), which resonated massively, because she is so good at crystallising concepts for people. I’m sure as I read her books I’ll bring up more (and other authors).

My mission this year is to ‘do things imperfectly’ by attempting and finishing things rather than dwelling on the perceived failings of my output. I have already done a lot more than in all my years of wanting to do things perfectly and have had follow-up opportunities from things I’ve done. I am planning and working towards something, but, it’s all unfolding rather by accident — much like the way Woody and Buzz end up saving the day.

Even with many stumbles along the way, the story can still be a success, even because of them. I’ve lit the fuse, the rocket’s taken off — now I’ve just got to enjoy the ascent, the glide, and, keep falling with style until I figure out where to land.