Climbing out of the Skin

In the last several days, I have had at least five different conversations with five different people about fearing the beast that is failure. That was topped off by an article I read in the paper this morning about the Chinese's take on winning medals at the Olympics. Look at this snippet:

"China has staked its honor on these Games. It seems as if so much of its self-esteem is tied up in gold. Not silver. Not bronze.

Just gold.

The Chinese government will pay its athletes bonuses for gold medals. It has been reported that gold-medal winners on the table-tennis team will make $25,000 in bonuses.

...It's now a world where silver is considered failure.

Chinese swimmer Zhang Li won a silver earlier this week in an impressive race in the 400-meter freestyle, but reacted without joy. He never smiled during the medal ceremony. And when the winner, Korean Taehwan Park, pulled him into the pictures that the photographers demanded after the medal ceremony, Zhang sadly stared at their lenses with his disappointment.

Silver doesn't spend."

What is going on here? What is this world that we have arrived at, where a Silver Olympic Medal equates, as Iceman would put it, "A plaque in the ladies' room"?

In one of the books we're reading for grad school, there's a chapter about helping your students develop a healthy self-concept. The chapter talked about how, in our society, we have become increasingly award-focused, looking to all kinds of external evidence to prove our merit as students, and beyond that as human beings. We win with trophies, we succeed with A's, we flex with fancy career titles. Would anyone disagree that the standard measure of American success is judged by education level, job title, economic status, the appearance of family cohesiveness, and good looks? I mean... that sums it up, doesn't it? You give someone a quick once-over: yeah. They look good. They look successful.

The problem is, our happiness as a country has been shown to plummet since the 1950's--starting with Eisenhower's push to increase consumerism as a National value. It began as an effort to boost the economy after World War II, but the unstoppable progression of this national materialistic philosophy has damaged us in all kinds of ways.

We equate value with stuff. We define success with trophies. We need approval to be happy.

And Silver doesn't cut it.

This grad school book's implied answer to all that-- well, some of that-- was to develop an individually healthy self-concept-- an understanding of yourself that remains positive outside of what others think of you. The chapter warned against us only rewarding students with tangible trophies and compliments-- if they're never discovering the worth of what they're doing on their OWN-- will they ever? It talked about developing an intrinsic motivation in these students where, even if the possibility of a reward is taken away, the student is still motivated to learn and try.

In this context, mistakes are okay because you can learn from them.
Achieving a personal best is better than getting the best grade in the class.
The process is more important than the end result.
You can be imperfect and still be acceptable.

You can be imperfect and still be acceptable.

This last bit-- the desire to be perfect-- screws us up in all KINDS of ways I'm realizing. Women run into this all the time-- bodily dissatisfaction among females is considered a "normative condition" among psychologists. (I can't link to that one because I read that fact in a psychological study and I can't remember what study it was.) We generally process something along the lines of the following check-list: Is our hair thick enough? Are our eyes big enough? Are our lashes long enough? Are we thin enough? Are our legs long enough? How are our ankles? How are our toes? How toned are our stomachs? Are our boobs the right size? Is our hair the right color? Are our hands the right size? Are our noses shaped right?

If the answer to any one of those questions is a negative one, we have WORK to do. And the cosmetics industry has every product imaginable to help us fix it. Because: we need to be perfect.

The expectation for perfection is HUGE in relationships as well. We want happily ever after, and soul mates. We want to find The One, and we expect that once we do, we'll be complete. We grow up on this, but what honest relationship lives up to it? What kind of human can live up to it? If we try, the expectation eventually crushes us.

Say you have a dude that wants approval; that wants to be loved. Say he tries to be a hero and earn it.
Then say you have a girl who's been hurt and wants safety. Say she wants a rescuer.
Say the dude finds the girl, and she needs him. He rescues her, and she gives him approval. Two incomplete people almost-- almost-- can provide the other with what they need.
Then say the girl grows into herself; she becomes stronger, she becomes confident.
Say the guy isn't feeling that heroism anymore, and has lost out on his daily dose of approval.
Say the guy makes mistakes, like forgetting to pay the bills one month. Say he feels pressure from the girl to not let her down.
Say that they begin hiding things from each other, because they can't be perfect, and so the pretense grows and grows until it crushes them.

We can't be perfect. We can't get everything we need from each other.
And if we can't, then we will always fail at some point. And what's worse, we will inevitably let someone down.

But where does that leave us? Our culture is not a culture that accepts failure gracefully. True, we may still congratulate our athletes for getting Silver medals, but I would say that, overall, our national attitude is geared towards perfection.

So how do we handle that then? Does it start with having a self-concept that is tied to something other than external rewards, than human approval?

This is the picture in my head. I picture myself in these shadows with this skin on, and the skin wants rewards I can show people, that wants approval, that wants another human being to complete me, and that wants to complete another human being. And I picture myself wriggling out of that skin like it's a clingy, damp wet suit. And once I finally get done wriggling, and pulling, and hopping around until I'm out of it,

I step into a lit pool of grace.

I am alone, and bare, and shivering, and I am human. Every single one of my flaws is lit up in that pool. But as soon as they're brought to light, they begin to fade.

I am whole there. I am shown absolute approval for that trembling self. The skin is tossed away, and I am literally washed clean.

I really think this is the only way to get out of it. I think it's the only way to be content, to feel whole, to be okay with being imperfect. I know it has a lot to do with psychology too-- with getting to the place where you can acknowledge the merit of the journey even if it doesn't reap a reward. But even then, understanding your wholeness first is necessary-- if you're whole OUTSIDE that reward, you can see how great the journey was. If you're not whole without the reward, then the journey was worthless.

And being out of that skin means we can be in relationships with one another as people. As just people. I started writing a song once, that tried to get at this idea. The chorus goes:

It's just women and men trying here,
And none of us whole:
We're either dangerous pretense,
Or scared naked souls.
I'm not enough to complete you,
But I'll do what I can
To give you the best of my heart
With a steady hand.

I want to be a teacher that allows mistakes, and encourages the process, and loves students for their hearts and effort, not just their accomplishments. I want to be a girlfriend, and eventually a wife that is open about my weaknesses, and who sees my partner as simply a man, as-- I hope-- an HONEST man. I want to be a human that is whole not because of what I do, or who I am, but because I am loved by a Savior that took care of the perfection part already.


That is the self I want to live in.

One More Blogger "Puts It OUT There"

You know the scene during the opening credits in the movie, “Grease,” when everyone is cartoonified? Sandy is perfect, and blonde, and has fluffy animals frolicking at her feet, and she has a canopy bed, yes, indeed, a canopy bed.

I’m using to being that. The mostly-perfect one. I’ve been a model daughter, a model student, a model mentor, and a squeaky clean Christian. I tried ballet, and was good at ballet. I tried acting and was good at acting. I tried guitar, and was able to write songs and sing them. I dress well. I’m social. People like me, dang it.

But this year has been a year of…. Not That.

I work at a silly job. “You? Are doing THAT for a living? I would have never expected that from you… I thought you were supposed to be a gypsy soul. You? Are doing THAT?”

I have fallen out of touch with important, special people. “Who? Who is this? You? I’m sorry I think you’ve got the wrong number. You couldn’t be her. I think she might be dead.”

I met with the Young Adults Leader Dude at my church at the beginning of this year, and told him that I would be his GO-TO-GIRL for Women’s Ministry. Then I fell off the map. I flaked on him. I stopped going altogether, and when I got follow-up emails, I didn’t respond. I am that flaky person that drove me crazy when I was trying to organize church leadership. “Hello? We were just wondering? If you were going to do anything? That you said you would?”

I was going to write a book at the beginning of this year. I wrote an intro, an outline, a first chapter. It was going to be about challenging the negative female body ideals that are so prevalent in this culture. I rented library books to research the issue. I didn’t read them. I stopped writing the book. I returned the library books late. I lost one altogether. I started wearing make-up again. I would challenge my imperfect face in the mirror; rub bronzer on my cheeks and fiercely argue with the nobler thoughts. “I don’t want to save the world today. I just want to feel pretty.”

It goes on. I have plenty of woe-is-me examples, but today I got hit with one in particular that just made me feel so lame. My dear friend and travel buddy Nicole is taking off to be a park ranger for seven months. This Saturday, she had a goodbye party. I was invited. I didn’t look at the Evite. I forgot to RSVP. I forgot the party. And I didn’t go. This girl is a GOOD friend of mine, and I totally spaced on her celebration.



So what do I do with all this? Holy Voice says, “Accept Grace little ragamuffin,” and I know that’s the answer. None of us are perfect, can be perfect, will be perfect—there’s a reason we need a Savior. But honestly? Looking at that concept, and accepting it in a way that is heart-felt are two different hills to climb. Intellectually, I know that I have received enough grace to dive into and splash around in. But emotionally, I still feel like a laaaame-o.



I heard a sermon last night that was about being present right where you’re at, and finding the purpose in what would seem like a random situation. The pastor talked about Einstein, who apparently had trouble finding a job after graduation. Einstein applied to every physicist in Europe—multiple times. No one would hire him. Einstein deserves a “FAILURE” forehead-sticker too right? He probably thought so anyway.

He ended up working in a patent office. It was a very silly job. But it only took him two hours to get all his work done; the other seven he spent doing physics. He explored his own ideas, unleashed his own theories… And in doing so, came up with E=mc², along with a whole lot of other mammoth brilliance.

I see that God puts people in places for a reason. I see that He can turn seeming failures into successes. His own death on the cross seemed like a shattering failure to everyone who expected him to overthrow the Roman Empire, I’m sure. But the cross wasn’t about politics or winning the popularity vote-- it was about establishing grace for loserly losers; for perfectionists putting on a show. It was so that He could say to me, every time I feel like slapping a Failure sticker on my forehead, “Stop being so dramatic. Don’t dwell in pity puddles, because I’ve already forgiven you and taken care of it. Now go do something productive. Go swing.”

Working on the heart part. Working on the head part too, because let’s be honest: that could use a little bolstering. In the meantime, I do thank God for Grace, and for forgiveness, and for not wasting even silly jobs, and for the possibility of triumphant surprising successes out of failures. I also thank Him for dear friends like Nicole, who had the decency to cut me some slack with words that were impossibly gracious.

And I doubt that I’ll be coming up with the next advancement in quantum physics while killing the hours at this slow, silly job. But.

I can continue to improve my paint skills.