Bouncing Back From Failure That Traumatizes

Woman, Desperate, Sad, Tears, Cry
Attending a national conference in 2003 where I was scheduled to speak later in the program, there just was a slot just before a break for me to get up and give a pitch on the topic I was planning to present on. But there was a significant problem: not that I understood it when I agreed to get up and talk, but I was totally unprepared to make a pitch (to market what I needed to say at a thumbnail sketch).
Immediately I got up before my peers, like intimidated suddenly by their existence in a way that confused me at the moment I became uncharacteristically flustered and bumbled my way through a brief demonstration which was a complete disaster. If you have ever sat down after one of these kinds of performances and been in immediate mental and emotional turmoil, you will know what it feels like to have neglected in a traumatising way.
Some failures hit that hard that we question our goal, our location, our existence, our existence.
But I was not just traumatised for the rest of the afternoon, feelings of ineptness, humiliation from pity, and guilt, and of course anger I had harmed my standing, and disappointment that I would let down not only myself but others that were counting on me, continued to swirl around in my mind and haunt me for months afterwards.
Whatever I did I could not seem to escape the strength of the complex anxiety hauled in my own body, mind, and soul. I know it affected my home life in addition to my work life. I managed to be present in my interactions with my peers, clients, wife or kids. I was easily angered because I was angry with myself, and I transferred that on others.
Why did one collapse strike so hard?
This 1 failure did not just harangue me for a couple of months, it shifted my assurance to talk professionally for a year or longer.
I know I will have a lot of friends here in upping my anxieties and concerns regarding public speaking. Getting up to talk to individuals has been one of the most harrowing experiences of my life, but it is not anymore.
There are times in all our lives when we face the embarrassment of failure in a circumstance that bloats intrigue to the point that the experience traumatises us. And injury changes us. It challenges our thinking to such an extent that we will do almost anything to not have a replica of such a painful encounter.
In certain ways, injury creates anxieties in us, logically for our defense, but illogically in ways that we become hypersensitive to anything even remotely re-traumatising. In the outer extremes injury completely interrupts our lives, and what was can not really be again. Unless we can somehow reinvent ourselves.
Among the best lessons I have learned from incidents that elicit injury is to drop my perfectionism. Additionally, to understand that certain events would be the fate of us all (not excusing traumas of abuse).
Some events that involve injury can actually be good for us, in that we are given the chance to learn how to deal. Again, however, this isn’t about trauma we are afflicted with from chronic or acute abuse, though I think there’s hope for a semblance of recovery. (Remember the name of the article; it is not about the unrelenting injury experienced by victims of abuse, particularly child abuse.)
1 thing injury has taught me is how fast I allow fear to control me in certain circumstances. Awareness is a wonder; to become consciously attentive to what ought to not frighten me but does. The invitation then is to adhere to the fear with fascination.
Fear copes well with the security of gentle curiosity.
If fascination stays gently interested it can help fear to trust in hope .

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