How to See Past Your Excuses
You heard me. Ferrari. You have a freaking FERR.AR.I. in your freaking garage. Why in the world are you just letting it sit there??
(Pause.) (Nothing.) (Silence.)
What the heck am I talking about, you ask? Because you’re quite certain there’s no shiny red Italian race car parked amidst the kids’ bikes, the empty electronics boxes that *had* to be saved, and the workbench in disarray because your imaginative children wanted to “build” something. (And yes, the Ferrari has to be red. That’s just the way it is.)
The Ferrari situation of which I speak is a metaphor. (You remember 7th grade English, right? No, not a simile…that uses like or as to compare.) The Ferrari is you, your body. And it’s pretty damn awesome. Well, that is if you’d drive it.
You were given this beautiful, amazing form that is capable of astonishing feats, both physical and mental. And you’re not going to use it to its full potential?? You’re going to make excuses for not putting the key in the ignition? Or maybe you’ll start the engine up and back it into the driveway, but goodness no, can’t take it out on the streets. Or perhaps you’re willing to drive it around the block. But sheesh, the speed limit is 25mph, and there’s kids playing soccer outside, and you better get home to make dinner anyway, so, uhhhh…yeah, a slow granny-paced cruise is “all you can manage.”
For crying out loud, throw that machine in reverse, zip out of the driveway, put ‘er in gear, and drive. Drive, my friends. Find a stretch of open road, and see what she can do. Feel the power as you accelerate, the centripetal force as you hug a curve, the rush of pushing the envelope.
Now, what business does a girl like me have challenging you on this?
Because I was you. That was me.
I never saw a Ferrari in my garage. A capable powerhouse of speed and agility? Yeah, right. I saw mine more like a sensible sedan. Not quite a Gremlin, but still, the likes of an esteemed race car clearly wasn’t in my garage. At least, that’s what I believed. Years of self-limiting beliefs distorted my vision.
What changed it all? How did I peel off years of layered self-doubt? It wasn’t automatic. No, not like the effortless removal of a window cling sticker. In fact, this was more like scraping off stubborn wallpaper. I grabbed hold of a tiny corner a tore some back. First a small piece, then bigger and bigger. And all because someone believed in me. Someone told me I could do it. Someone told me my excuses were just that: excuses.
This is me telling you to stop giving such power to your excuses. I don’t have time. I can’t afford it. It’s too hard. I don’t know where to start. I love food too much. I have an injury. All your excuses foster is fear and failure.
You’ve got a @#*%ing Ferrari in your garage, for goodness sake! It’s high time you see just what that baby can do.
P.S. Just for kicks…I’m curious…what kind of “car” do you see in your garage??