We got a huge bag of Belly Flops for Easter this year. In case you’re unfamiliar with the term, Belly Flops are the misshapen jelly beans that didn’t pass the Jelly Belly perfection test. Some of them look a bit like runts, but seem fairly normal, others, how shall we put this nicely, resemble obscene amoeba.
I’ve been stressing this past week. (Oh and I’m totally chowing down on Belly Flops while I write this). I’m in the throes of planning my first fundraiser event, and I actually thought, when I dreamed it up, that it wouldn’t be very hard. Y’all have permission to laugh at me. I suddenly find my brain juggling thoughts of donation request letters, non-profit eligibility, and entertainment options.
Whenever I try something new, what ultimately makes me falter is the idea of messing up. Of failing. Of making a belly flop.
Back to the Belly Flops candies. These misshapen rejects are evidence of just how many mess ups are actually created in the day-to-day of life. I think we’d all prefer to crank out perfection from dawn to dusk, but that isn’t the reality of anything.
What are the Belly Flops I want to avoid? I hate paying postage to mail a donation request that might be turned down. I hate asking for event organizing help from friends as if I’m a beggar. I hate marketing myself and my goals while trying not to whine or sound needy.
Most of all, I hate making mistakes. I’m haunted (probably more than your average Jane), by “if only” statements. I want to pretend that Belly Flops (not the candies this time) do not exist. But they do. And it takes a lot of Belly Flops (yes, the candies this time) to make the good jelly beans. That means that these mistakes need to happen.
If they’re not happening, I’m not trying hard enough.
I’ll be rejected sometimes. I’ll have people refuse to help me. I’ll offend someone. I’ll get down on my knees and apologize to someone I’ve offended.
I’m going to belly flop so I can learn how to better perfect my dive.
{I always get seized up when I am going through the growing pains of challenging myself. This time it’s a fundraiser to pay for the tuition of attending a literary boot camp on the other side of the country.}
Where are you afraid to fail? Admitting it is the first step in reaching for it.
