Now I might be a little new to this particular game of blogging and podcasting, but I’m not new to the game of life. I know that there are successes and there are failures. I’ve evaluated this and thought long and hard about it. I’m committed to the path I’ve started on, but willing to change the course along the way.
I am not willing to go back.
I also can recognize the negative experience of someone else spilling over into his or her advice. I asked for advice and I appreciated the response, but I hadn’t expected someone to tell me not to do it. I guess I got used to everyone I know supporting me and saying, YES! You can do this! YES! You will succeed! YES! It’s a great idea!
This got me thinking about all the naysayers I’ve met in my past. I’ve overcome a few hurdles and there was always someone poking at me, whispering that I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t my subconscious; it was an actual living, breathing person. When I wanted to become a little league umpire, most people said I couldn’t do it. I persisted to spite them.
What was so hard about putting on some gear and watching a ball game?
I learned later that it takes a lot of skill and dedication to be good. But, it gave me skills and experience I wouldn’t trade for anything. I saw a lot of good ball games, and I learned a lot about myself. I learned to be resilient because some nine-year-olds can throw a ball so hard and fast that the catcher can’t catch it. Luckily, some part of my leg was always there to deflect the ball.
I learned to listen to my gut. Some kids can’t find the strike zone; some kids never leave it. I had about one second to decide if the pitch was a strike or a ball; sometimes it’s too close to call. So you go with your gut. Trust your instinct. In one second, I had to decide: Would I have swung?
I learned that I didn’t have to be boxed into a traditional job. I was the only female umpire in the entire county, but I owned it. I knew I was representing all women. I brushed my hair, I painted my nails and I wore make-up. I wasn’t going to be some grubby, greasy blue. I was a lady. Some people didn’t like that.
I learned not to care. Some people told me I should go back to slow-pitch softball. They had the pleasure of being tossed out of the ballpark by the only female umpire in the county.
We all have people who tell us no. They tell us we’ll fail. They tell us we’ll never be able to succeed at whatever new thing we wish to pursue.
We have to eject them. It’s our duty. They don’t belong on our playing field.
So, in the spirit of politeness, I will send this woman an email in response, thanking her for her time and that will be the end of it.
Maybe it’s tough. That’s ok, I’ve done tough things before.