The Cave

Let me paint the picture for you. 

I am in a cave. It's really dark in here. I'm sure there's light somewhere, but it isn't easy to see. Times of transition always feel this way for me. 

The walls are smooth. I can't climb them,  I do not have the tools to get myself out of this. 

I may be in this deep dark place in my life, but I am not alone. 

I am here with my inner critic. Her name is Ethel. She is a disrespectful, mean, nasty lady from New Jersey that lives in my head. 

She says things like "you are a failure," "you are a loser," "you will never accomplish anything," and "you are not enough."  I've been surrounded by her messages for a long time. She's been hanging around me for a while and filling my head with her critical attacks. 

Ethel thrives on my self-doubt. She loves seeing me suffer. She really is an evil piece of shit--and she's called me this too. 

During this time of transition, I start to get some ideas about how I can get out of this hole. She tells me my idea is stupid, and I shouldn't even bother trying to get out and I should accept this darkness as my reality. I will fail at this just like I have failed at so many other things before. I should just stay here. Stuck--in the dark, with her. 

She has convinced me to not take risks, to not get out there, and to not try things I might be good at. She's in cahoots with the naysayers, past employers and the self-doubt demon.  She's actively trying to keep me down in the pit with her so she will not be alone. 

I have someone rooting for me outside this cave, too.  For me, this is God, but for you--it might be the encouraging best friend. I know, I know. If you've read this blog before, you are probably going, "Cassidy, why can't you just believe in yourself?" 

Well, it's because more often than I would like to admit, Ethel was right.  Even though I thought I was doing things the right way. I am passionate to learn, show up on time, and do the best I can do with any situation. I may not be the best at something, but at least I can say I gave it my best shot. Give me time. If I really want to learn something, I will not give up. 

Ethel waits for me with a smile on her face realizing this is when she can tempt me. She is ready to strike like a mean girl in middle school. She transforms from maybe someone I would hang out with, into a vicious, venomous cobra.  It's much harder to fight once you have snake venom in you. 

"I told you, you will not be able to leave this cave," she says.  Then I turn into a small, discouraged worm. Someone who hates herself and is frustrated because she doesn't know how to move forward. She knows she can, she's just not sure how. 

 Why am I calling myself a worm? For two reasons: 

1. Because I am entertaining her attacks 

2. And because God calls Jacob a worm when he commands him not to be afraid. 

Isaiah 41:14 NIV

Do not be afraid, you worm Jacob,
    little Israel, do not fear,
for I myself will help you,” declares the Lord,
    your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.

Each time I come into a period of transition, Ethel talks so loudly I can't hear God-- or the encouraging best friend that we all should have in addition to our inner critic. Our inner critic isn't even constructive, she's just mean. Our friend believes in us, sometimes more than we believe in ourselves. 

He reminds me that I was created to be awesome, that I make people laugh, that I have a voice worth listening to and I deserve every bit of love I receive. It helps me to think about the positive qualities I do have. 

God is trying to brainstorm ideas with me about how I can get out of this hole.  Ethel is doing everything she can to make sure I can't hear Him. She is singing loudly trying to get me distracted so that I can join in and no longer care about leaving the cave. I am guilty of this and so are the Israelites, getting distracted from their goal of reaching the promised land. 

If I could just shut Ethel up, I might be able to hear what God is trying to tell me. I guess people back then weren't all that different. But what I find so neat about this is--this experience is human. People back then faced the same sort of situations and fell into the same mental traps. 

Facing those challenges is hard because I do not like to be alone with my own thoughts. Sometimes I reveal some ugly, hard-to-reconcile truths about either myself or life. 

"Am I the problem?" 

"Did I sabotage myself?" 

"Why can't I get it right?" 

"Will I ever be successful?" 

I'm going to be honest, my biggest obstacle comes down to one little word. 

Doubt. 

Doubting myself. 

Doubting God. 

Doubting His promises for me. 

Doubting if I am enough. 

Doubting my abilities. 

Doubting my voice. 

Doubting my gifts. 

Doubting if I can do it, whatever it is. 

"Doubt kills dreams faster than failure ever will."--Poet, filmmaker and author, Suzy Kassem 

I think any creator, entrepreneur, or someone about to go on a new journey can relate to this sentiment. 

I have failed. Enough times to tell you that sometimes I wonder if I will ever "arrive." Let's just say I can count on two hands how many times. 

I have to remind myself a lot of people--have failed. They are not victims of snakebites. They are heroes for overcoming the most challenging aspects of life--but they usually only like to talk about the overcoming thing. 

People hide their failures because they don't want to talk about how bad they messed up--me included. How they felt so unloved and replay a horrible situation over and over again and have nightmares about it. 

People just want to skip to the accomplished part--and I can't say I blame them. Nobody ever wants to talk about the time they wanted to walk in front of a train because of a strong feeling of self-loathing, anxiety and depression. 

I don't see the tears they cried, the studying they did, the suicide attempt they made, the drugs they did, the business they failed at, the job they got fired from, the dangerous places they used to hang out at, the mental breakdown they had, and the come-to-Jesus moment they had where they were absolutely drained from trying so hard-- and just begged for deliverance. 

The desire to not talk about it is only human. I often feel ashamed, not good enough and like a complete an utter trainwreck sometimes, thinking the absolute worst of myself.  

Cue Ethel.  So here is a vague description of my history of snake bites. 

I am Cassidy, and I am someone who has never really felt like I have figured out this career part of my life and it eats me up inside. It stresses me out, it depresses me, it makes me feel directionless and it makes me feel like I will never figure it out.   For a second, I thought I did, and then alas, it was cut short before even I got to form an opinion about it. 

It's everywhere on social media. You can't escape it. 

And when I feel like all of that, I need to keep in my heart--that He is talking to me, but I can't hear Him, or get any kind of help if I am talking to Ethel.