The paralyzing fear of failure

We all fear risk and taking chances. We all fear choices and change, especially if they have long-term implications. But most of all—and really, the underlying fear—we fear failure. Paralyzing failure.

Failure is seared into our brains. The mind takes measures to make sure we never forget that we've failed. That we remember forever—well, at least for a long time—that we made a mistake, taken the wrong turn. And that memory is vividly conjured at need: Thinking of making a change? Take that! Planning on risking something? Take this! Pow, pow, pow — the memories pop into your head...

But those memories are used by us in the wrong way. We tend to use them as rationalized answers to why we shouldn't try an action again. Even worse, we mistakingly attribute those memories to our abilities, and by doing so we deem ourselves as failures and our self-esteem takes a dive.

Instead, we should be using the memories as lessons on how not to repeat the mistakes we made the first time round. Think about it like a math quiz: failing to reach the correct result doesn't mean you don't know math. It just means that there was a problem with the way you calculated the equation.

Learn your lesson and try again when you're ready. Don't give up math all together.

A ball of yarn

We tend to look at our problems like a big, tangled ball of yarn. A ball of jumbled up difficulties and complications and challenges. And the more of them we have, the bigger and more entangled the ball of yarn gets.

The thought of untangling the ball is agony. Trying to, only seems to create more complicated knots. We get this sinking feeling in our stomach and the pace of our thoughts quickens. We loose focus. In this state, every new problem we are faced with only serves to double the size of the ball, further adding to its complexity (and our stress levels).

But problems aren't actually like that. They aren't one big ball of yarn, even though our minds tend to classify them that way (for the sake of keeping things in order upstairs). Problems are actually unique and distinct: 1 problem = 1 ball of yarn. If you view them like this, you will be able to break them down, and deal with each separately. Sure, you will be faced with a lot more balls of yarn, but most will require a gentle pull to become undone.

There, one problem solved!

Hope

Faced with a tough situation—such as leaving the family business—we instinctively prefer the easy way out, we prefer to avoid shaking the boat. We'd rather sit things out and hope for the best.

But here's the thing with hope: Hope without action, without effort will get you nowhere. Without doing something about it, hope is nothing but a lottery ticket — your chances of winning are a gazillion to one.

Regardless of what you choose, don't just hope for the best, work for it!

Cleaning the fish bowl

Have you ever had the oh-so-exciting pleasure of cleaning a fish bowl?
Looking at the bowl, you wouldn't think that it needs any cleaning: the fish is swimming around, the plastic plant is still green, and the algae is only lightly covering the pebbles at the bottom of the bowl. No cleaning needed — we're good!
But then the water level and the fish's dehydrated look catch your eye, and you think to yourself that it's time for a little water top-up. So, you gently pick up the bowl, hoping not to scare the fish, when you notice, as the bowl turns into a snow poop globe, that the look on the fish's face has gone from panic to helpless despair...

Poor fish.

That's the thing, there's always some type of "snow" lying at the bottom of the bowl. You can ignore it as much as you like but it won't go away. The slightest shake and it gets uncovered.

True to many things in life—projects at work, relationships, perspectives—this is also true to the family business. The snow is there. It's revealed itself in countless family arguments and squabbles. And then gently sank back down... But it's still there.

It's time to clean the fish bowl.

The rainmaker

Confronted with a hopeless situation, will you shrug your shoulders and move on? Or will you try and make a change, be a rainmaker?

I keep thinking about those scenes in animated movies where the hero stares over a barren landscape: dried up trees, withered flowers, no grass only dirt, hopelessness all around... But then she kneels and gently taps the ground with the tip of her finger. Suddenly, green ripples shoot-off from that spot on the ground, flowers pop up and blossom, trees flourish and the land is covered with grass as far as the eye can see. Hope is returned.

So, confronted with a hopeless situation, what would you do?

I think your better bet is tapping the ground/waving your wand/jumping up and down — whatever makes your magic happen. Even if you end up growing one flower it'll make the effort worth it.

The Firsties

You know that sinking feeling you get when the enormity of the undertaking you've just took on reveals itself? It could be taking on more responsibility at work; moving half-way across the country; taking a mortgage and understanding that it's "for life"; leaving the family business... Whatever it is, it suddenly overwhelms you and you get, what I like to call: the firsties.

I call them the firsties because they usually come along when you are confronted with something big for the first time. And because it's the first time, you're suddenly not sure of your abilities and you get that overwhelming sinking feeling... The firsties.

The feeling comes from your Lizard brain. It's fighting to get back to its comfort zone, to gain control again. It doesn't like change — not one bit. And it uses every tool at its disposal to reverse it. The worst of them all: self-doubt. You start questioning yourself, second guessing, you loose confidence and the challenge becomes too big. Overwhelmed, you say to yourself "maybe I shouldn't do this..." and the Lizard wins.

The most important part about recognizing the firsties is: recognizing the firsties. Understanding that the overwhelming feeling is actually the lizard fighting to get back to its comfort zone. Once you recognize this, you will allow the sensation to wash over you, leaving you more focused on the task at hand.

The firsties suck! No doubt about it. But there is a silver lining: they're a great way to help you focus, plan and be prepared for the challenge at hand!

Rubber stamp

Why do we spend so much energy seeking others' approval? Why do we need to know that our actions are OK in other peoples eyes?

A big part of leaving the business (and really of everything we do) is needing that rubber stamp of approval. The notion that we need to explain our actions to all that surround us from co-workers to family members is hard to beat. We do it in hopes that they (the others) will justify and understand our choices, and in doing so make the process easier (for us).

The problem with this is twofold. First, you will never manage to get everyone's approval. There will always be someone that thinks you are making a big mistake. Second, and really the more significant problem: even though you think so, it won't make you feel any better. You are making a tough decision and those are never easy...

My point is that the rubber stamp does not exist, there is no point in questing it. It is but a figment of your mind working over-time to justify your actions. The only thing left to do, really, is to believe in your way and lead yourself onward.


For CW

Parents

Are just people. They are people like you and me. They have their issues, their scars that they carry through life.

The problem with this is that as a child you may suffer. You may end up with a parent that doesn't understand you or that doesn't offer the support or the embrace that you so yearn for.

What you need to understand is that it isn't "doesn't" it's "can't". Your parents, for whatever reason, can't give you what you need. It's like asking a blind person to see... they just can't.

There are two things you can do about this: You can stick around and keep trying to get what you want, hoping that one day the blind will see; or you can accept them for what they are — blind. The latter will free you to move on. The former, if not dealt with, may leave a hole in your sole. A hole that could one day effect your own parenting skills...

Conquering the dragon

My dragon was my dad, and a very fierce one. His fire: making me the smallest person on earth. He had a knack for it — a knack for spitting that fire — and I wasn't the only one that got in its domineering way...

But I've conquered my dragon, its flames can no longer hurt me.

Leaving the business was a big part of that. Bigger, though, is when we occasionally see each other: It seems as if the dragon is nothing but a little lizard...

Choices

If you had to make a choice what would it be:
Hope for the best, stay in the family business and risk living a "what if..." life?
— or —
Hope for the best, leave the family business, living life knowing that you at least gave it a shot?

Tough choice, I know... Each has its benefits; each has its risks...

Wouldn't it be great if someone could decide for you? If someone could calculate the odds and gazing into the future give you the right answer?

I'm afraid that someone is you.