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 keep a few mementos. We want to hold onto a few things. We want to grab a handful of assorted trinkets and knick-knacks to have something to ground us in the certainty and familiarity of days gone-by, even though we wish that the pain associated with those day would go ‘bye.’

However, too often keeping a few mementos turns into keeping a whole lot of mementos. Eventually, we’re starting to create a memento museum. Before long, we’ve managing a memento museum. And soon thereafter, we’re living in it. We not supposed to live in the past because the past wasn’t designed for that purpose. Yes, it’s familiar and it doesn’t present us with the unknown of the future. But as we noted previously, the past is the rich raw material from which we craft a future, not the raw material that we use to preserve the past. However, we want to sort and catalog and categorize and organize and stow and store all that stuff.  And before we know it, the museum is managing us because our self-esteem constantly yells that we have no ability to manage a new future, so we settle for managing a past. The things that we’re preserving in the museums of our yesterday are the precious raw materials that stand ready to construct our tomorrow. Let them do what they’re supposed to do. A new future is not building a museum.

Closing

Today’s podcast is drawn from the book, “The Self That I Long to Believe In – The Challenge of Building Self-Esteem.” Get your copy today at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or wherever books are sold.

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