My name is Erik and I’ve always felt comfortable discussing deeply personal moments of my life with others. Perhaps it’s a type of therapy, a way to alleviate the guilt that I often feel I carry.
I’m about to do it again, right now. Not everyone is comfortable with this kind of vulnerability. If that’s you, I suggest you look away. It’s about to get ugly.
I should say up front that I’m beginning to consider my affinity to generous personal sharing to be a gift. It seems to me that not everyone’s able to do it. That isn’t necessarily a good thing. That I’m able to is likely for a reason. It’s good. So here we go…
I’m a fraud.
Or at least I’m afraid I am.
I was recently asked, “What are you buying with the hours of your life?” Not an easy question to answer. Not one easily asked of yourself, either. Lately I’ve been feeling worn out. Peace has not riden shotgun with me in some time.
I thought I knew what I wanted. As I begin to see it take form, I’m confronted with the suspicion that perhaps I miscalculated. It’s not that the elements (family, relationships, business) aren’t correct. It’s not a lack of effort that troubles me. It’s the exchange of it. Go go go. Faster. The pace quickens. The demands never cease. I allow it.
All the while I quietly murmur to myself that I can endure the weight. The pursuit of greater influence, however that’s defined, spurs me on. The romanticized arrival is so keenly illustrated in my imagination. Change lives. Change the world.
But, is it worth it?
Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?
I’m very busy. I’m grateful to have so much opportunity in every sense of that term. Thanks are in order to many of you. I want to be clear about that. I’m not launching an official complaint. I’m grateful to be able to lead a family, a church, a business.
I just want to make sure that our destination is worthy.
Back to being a fraud. I’m afraid all of you are eventually going to wise up and realize that I’m just some guy who’s putzed his way into a good thing. You’ll see that I’m stressed out at times. You’ll learn that I don’t always know how we’re going to get there. You’ll discover that while some of my strengths ascend, newfound flaws are being added to my periodic table of weaknesses. I’m afraid you’ll come to know me the way I know me. I’m afraid you’ll want out.
The most troubling part is that I mostly keep it to myself. If you found out these things then what kind of leader would that make me? What kind of success is that? The guilt I often feel is because I’m afraid that I’m not good enough and that somehow that’s my fault.
It’s a lie. I know it is. It’s a powerful lie, though. I think perhaps we’ve all been told it at some point. We’ve all believed it some, too. It’s striking to me that I spend considerable time encouraging people, affirming that they’re incredible and that they have only to act it out. The irony of this is not lost on me. Perhaps I’m doing for them what I feel needs to be done for me.
This is no cry for help, though.
I refuse to let my brokenness reign. I will use it‘s energy against itself and any distant cousins that warm themselves by the fire that’s burning within me. They covet the heat. They conspire to block the light until I forget there was ever a fire to begin with. But even my brokenness has a weakness. While it thrives on being coddled, it can’t stand up to scrutiny. It has no defense.
So, you can see why I didn’t have a choice in writing this. I need to banish the brokenness.*
This is me. Thank you for being okay with that.
If this is you, we have something in common.
*My decision to share this reminds me of what Shawn Coyne calls The Best Bad Choice.
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