This week has been rough. Throw in the towel, throw the baby out with the bathwater, screw the world rough. I came home last evening after a week of work travel. I was exhausted, sick and flat out defeated. I am learning a new job, and finishing my MBA concurrently. I have five days left of school. I am at the finish line after three years. Burning the candle at both ends for months, especially the last 8 weeks finally caught up to me this week.
I went to my week of training for work, confident and feeling good about my progress. I should have known what kind of week I was going to have when I got stuck not once, but twice in flash flooding on my way to Indiana. I also did not realize that the location that I was going to was in a different time zone. Even not realizing the time difference, I was scheduled to arrive 30 minutes before my designated time. Not only did I NOT get there early, I was two hours LATE.
Moving on. I go about my next day eager and excited to learn. I had to give a presentation to my trainer. I bombed it. Not because I was not prepared, but I did not prepare what was expected of me. This was not due to lack of attention on my part, it simply was not delivered the way that was expected of me. I apparently “misunderstood” the overall ask. I had to start from ground zero. Ok. No worries. It is training after all. This is feedback time, it is what this time is for. So, I thought. I was not feeling well, but I was tired and I summed it to that. Next day, I am prepared to deliver what I needed to. Guess what, I felt worse. I made it though the day barely. My heart rate was jumping into the 120-130’s; I was dizzy, sweaty and nauseous. I made it through the day alive. The next morning, not so much. I ended up in a urgent care center being told I was dehydrated, my heart rate was erratic and my blood pressure was up. I earned a consult with a heart specialist when I arrive back in St. Louis.
I missed a day of training; I missed days doing homework for school. I was simply non-functional. I hit rock bottom this week. I bounced back on Friday and delivered my presentation at an “acceptable” level, I was told. Still, behind on school work mind you, still feeling like crap and six hours from home. I left in the afternoon after what I thought to be a good day and experience. I get my feedback from my trainer, and it was what I expected. Not great, not horrible. I then got my written. It is funny how much things sound so much worse in writing than in person. Wow. I read my report and I thought, damn I absolutely suck. I am failing at this job that I worked so hard to get.
I am spread so thin, sick and all that; but it does not matter. I STILL have to perform. I know this. I am responsible for this. Damn, my confidence was hit. Big time.
I got home last night after a six hour drive; six hours of berating myself for not being stronger; for not being better. For not being perfect. Top Gun was on, and I poured a glass of wine. I took about three sips. Just could not even stomach it. I began watching after Goose dies and Maverick is struggling with guilt. He is cleared from any wrong-doing. He is put back in the cockpit. His confidence is destroyed. The commanding officer replies, “keep sending him up.”
That’s were I am at that moment that I am watching. I am in that cockpit afraid to fire. Afraid to fail even more than I perceive I have.
As I am watching and feeling sorry for myself, I get a message from my youngest son: “I love you momma, more than I can comprehend with words.” He is 20 and lives in Minneapolis. Instantly, I reply, I love you too, are you ok? His reply hit me like a ton of bricks and smacked my ass back into reality: “Yeah, I am. I just to remind you sometimes.” I NEEDED to be reminded of that at that very moment in time. Those words put the confidence back into my soul. My “why” came flooding back with my son’s words.
My fight came back in a moment. I chose to go to bed and sleep. I slept for nearly 12 hours straight and I am sitting down facing what I do not want to right now.
My fear of failing is keeping me from completing what I need to complete. I am allowing my fear to dictate my performance. So, after reading his words again I sit down to give my all, my best effort. Fearlessly. If I fail, its ok. I will fail trying. I will not fail giving up, however.
Like Viper says about Maverick, “keep sending him up.”
I am cleared for takeoff.