I am afraid of failure. I love dreaming and goal setting, but sometimes I hesitate to do it. Because if I set goals, I might not reach those goals. And then? Then I know I'll have that sinking feeling in the pit of my gut. I hate that feeling.
I am posting about a childhood that I never achieved over at Prodigal Magazine today. Will you join me there? Here's a little teaser.
I knew I could do it.
When I was little, I just knew. Every time I was in my yard or at a playground, I would try, sure that this time would be different. Certain that this time, I would accomplish my goal.
I would kick hard at the air in front of me while arching my back so far that my hair would kiss the ground as I sailed by. Then, at just the right moment, I would lean forward and bend my knees into a tight tuck. Back and forth I moved, swinging higher and faster each time.
Some days I would swing so high and so hard and so fast that the structure would shake. Yes, I would think. This is it!
Yet, try as I might, I never looped around.
Head on over to Prodigal Magazine to read the rest of my article, Redefining Failure.