Believing In a New Start - The Self That I Long to Believe In

The Self That I Long to Believe In Believing in a New Start Some of us don’t believe in new starts. We may feel that we’re not worthy of a new start. Or, we may feel that we just don’t have what it takes to pull off a new start. But, what would we actually do with a new start, if it were possible? Not something that looks new because we’ve cleaned it up in order to make it look new, when it’s not. Not some radical make-over of something that’s radically old so that it looks new, but it’s not. Not some tedious restoration that’s going to temporarily erase the footprints of time and grant something old a few more years of life until it eventually shows it real age again. Because that stuff’s born of the belief that we’re not worthy of something really new, and that we’re just not smart enough to actually create something that’s different than whatever it is that we’ve got, and whoever it is that we are. New. How do we make something new? Well, here five brief ideas on what you need to do in order begin making things new: First, A New Future is Built From the Raw Materials of the Past We build for tomorrow on the foundation of the past because, for good or ill, the past is what we’ve got. The past holds the raw material from which futures are built. The memories, experiences, wounds, trauma, gains, losses, betrayals, and the various lessons of the past that we draw from those things are the natural fodder that feeds a future seeking sustenance to foster its growth. Think about this. The more the damage, the more the material that we have to work with. We grow in pain. We learn in struggle. We’re stretched when it’s hard. Wounds, trauma, disappointment, loss, regret, betrayal, failure…yeah, all of that stuff is painful. But all of that stuff is also filled with some of the greatest growth opportunities that you’re ever going to get. A new future is built from the raw material of the past. Second, A New Future Demands Risk When our self-confidence has been beaten to a pulp, every risk looks big. There is no little risk. Risk is risk, and it’s formidable regardless of how big or small it might be. Risk is hazardous because it can turn on us. It can go sideways in a heartbeat. And if it does, it can instantly affirm all of the negative stuff about us that we don’t want affirmed. It’s dangerous. But we have to think about the risk in ‘not’ going forward. We have to consider the risk of staying where we are and remaining who we are. We have to ponder the price that we will pay for being apathetic verses pressing against our apathy and taking a shot at something better. We will actually affirm out low self-esteem by not acting, because that’s what will happen! Look, we may not have the confidence that the future will be good, but neither do we have the certainty that it will be bad. Not to risk is the greatest risk of all. Therefore, we must weigh the risk in acting against the greater risk of not acting. A new future demands risk. Third, A New Future Will Demand Something New If we want a truly new ‘new’ future, something about it’s got to be new. ‘New’ implies something that does not possess any of the elements that we already possess. Something must be added that has not been added before because we’ve been too afraid to add it. Some place that we have never been before must be some place that we’re now willing to consider going, despite how afraid we might be of going there. Some direction that we’ve either adamantly avoided, or never thought to consider needs to be considered and mapped out even though such a thought is incredibly frightening. Some decision that we may have avoided out of the fear that it may rock our world may need to be made and be granted permission to rock our world a bit knowing that sometimes it’s the rocking that brings the changing. A new future will demand something new. Fourth, a New Future Means Grieving What We’re Leaving When we leave something behind it will naturally leave a hole of some sort. Whether that hole is large or small, disorienting or desired, painful or painless, it is the now vacant space that was once occupied by whatever it is that we’re leaving (or whatever left us). Having these holes creates a measure of discomfort because we’re not used to a hole being where something else used to be, and maybe should be. On top of that, we’re naturally prone to try to fill empty spaces for the simple fact that they’re empty. And we do that because we assume that there’s something wrong with us because they shouldn’t be empty. ‘Empty’ doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with you. It means that something’s coming to you, and now you have space for it. It’s a commentary on the opportunity that stands in front of, not some deficit that resides within us. A New Future Means Grieving What We’re Leaving Fifth and Finally, a New Future is Not Building a Museum You know, we want to ...