The Fear of Failure

I have recently found myself in the presence of an overwhelming feeling of impending failure.  From past experience, I know this feeling envelops me at times when the future is uncertain.  It presents itself at times when I am unsure of how I will do on an essay or a test, badgering me into thinking I am destined to fail.  It pesters me when the task at hand seems incomprehensible, urging me to stop while I am ahead.  When it hits me full force, I begin to believe that I will not be successful in the long-term.

Upon coming to New Zealand, I believed I would miraculously discover what it is I want to do with my life, post-graduation that is.  I had this picture in my head of finally discovering what it is I’m passionate about and pursuing this passion with vigor and intensity.

 I cannot help but think now that this was too high of an expectation, one that has inevitably left me feeling like somewhat of a failure.  I still have absolutely no idea what I want to do after I graduate and that is such a scary, looming feeling.  It leads me to the irrational conclusion that no matter what I set my sights on, I will fail regardless so I might as well not even try. 

Why is it the fear of failing gets in the way of all the possibilities that lay ahead?  Why is it so challenging to look past this possibility of failure and simply try your best anyway?  Are we so conditioned to believe that any amount of failure impacts upon who we are as a person?  Any attempts to rationalize this fear lead me to believe that such rationalization is not possible.  But this does not take away from how much of an effect this belief can have.

Failing is an inevitable part of life; if it weren’t for the mistakes we made, the tests we failed, the misjudgments we made, how would we ever learn?  Somehow, this does not make the fear diminish though.  It would be all too easy if we knew what we would be successful at and what paths we had better veer from.  If I had the choice to peer into my future and deliberately assess when and where I would make my mistakes, I cannot be certain I would turn down this opportunity.

This fear of failure is something I have been feeling more and more recently.  Maybe it comes from the realization that I will soon have to go back to my “normal” life of challenging classes and from there I am edging closer and closer to the end of my college career.  It is the fear of the unknown, the fear of what I cannot predict, wrapped up in this fear of failing.  I know that when I return home, some big decisions await me, decisions I would rather not worry about not now, not ever.

 And with these decisions come the possibility of failure.  Looking over the classes I have yet to take, I worry that I am never going to graduate, another irrational fear. This leads me to the conclusion that I will never find my passion in life and thus never be successful; something I know is not likely but nevertheless feels so possible at times. 

It comes down to the difference between knowing what to do and actually doing what I should do.  I should focus on the task at hand, not in trying to predict what will happen in the future.  I do not know how successful I will be nor do I know exactly what the future holds, but I do know that failure is apart of life, for better or worse.  This thought brings me some comfort, knowing that it is a natural part of the human experience and the choice comes in whether or not we learn from the experience.

But actually turning this knowledge into a core belief and acting upon this belief is the tricky part that inevitably will take time and effort.  But for now, I seek to work toward a relinquishing of this fear of failure as it does not serve me in the present moment nor does it push me to do my best, for this is all I can ask of myself.   

A State of Balance

Today, I came upon a realization as I browsed through the spirituality section at the local used bookstore.  After approximately thirty minutes staring aimlessly at the plethora of books, eyes scanning from title to title, I realized I had no idea what I was looking for. I was on the search, for something, something to draw my attention.  

I self-consciously stood there, worried that the man sitting at the counter would eventually come over to make sure I was finding what I came looking for.  For the answer to this simple question, I did not know.  I had come looking for a book, but upon self-examination, I knew I was looking for much more.  I came to that bookstore looking for meaning, meaning I know deep down I cannot find in some book. 

Since coming to New Zealand, despite all the amazing, unbelievable experiences I have had, I have noticed a subtle, yet drastic change, a shift in focus you might say.  I’ve noticed myself consumed by the superficial world, pulling me into its tight grip.  

I have become preoccupied with this world…consumed by concerns over my body and appearance, the party scene, the Facebook obsession, worried about what others are doing, thinking, saying, worried about my grades and stressing over my school work…all the minuscule things in life.  I’ve resorted to this superficial layering of life that we all find ourselves trapped in more often than we would like to admit. 

Taking a step back, I realize that my sense of balance has been swept under the rug.  I feel like I have lost my connection to my spirituality, the part of me I deem most important.  I have lost my sense of meaning, of purpose and I am uselessly trying to fill this hole, this emptiness with things of the superficial nature.  I’ve noticed a hunger, a longing to regain this connection with my spirituality and I have responded by filling it with things of this nature.  

As much as I hate to admit it, I have resorted back to old habits. But it’s time I start being honest with myself.  Until I do, I will be trapped in the same cycle of self-sabotaging behaviors.  I realize I must make a conscious effort to respond to this sense of longing in ways that actually work toward filling this hole. 

My meditation practice has been basically non-existent since coming to New Zealand and I recognize now how much of an impact this has had on my day-to-day life.  In the bookstore today I discovered I was searching outside of myself for something, some book to inspire me, to relight the flame of purpose and desire in my heart.  But I now am beginning to realize, I do not need a book to achieve this.  I must look within myself instead, for within myself lies all the love, comfort, meaning, and purpose I need. 

Realizing how unbalanced I’ve become took a lot of conscious awareness and I know that each moment presents a new challenge to remain conscious and present.  I must work diligently to regain this sense of balance, whether that be through meditation or journaling, some way to keep my focus clear of all the superficial clutter.  I know this will not be easy and temptation will inevitably present itself, but I am up for the challenge.  

With this, I must bear in mind that perfection is not an attainable goal, not now, not ever.  All I can ever do is my best.  Each day is a new day, each moment a new moment, a new opportunity to realign my values toward love and acceptance, toward a state of balance defined by utter peace and harmony.           

A Week to Remember

Almost three weeks ago, I hopped into a mini van with 7 friends for a week-long journey of adventure and exploration around the south island of New Zealand.  Packing up the van with all our packs and food was a struggle in and of itself but we somehow managed to cram all 8 of us into that green mini van, later dubbed "Big Al".  A mere 3 hours later, we set off on our journey ready than ever to take on whatever challenge headed our way. 

Our first stop: Te Anau.  We arrived at our campsite around 11 p.m. and what an unbelievably beautiful, warm night it was.  We managed to set up the tents (the 6 of us girls sharing the 4 person tent and the 2 boys sharing a cozy 2 person tent) without any problems and happily headed straight to bed.

The following morning we took a short walk to the picturesque Lake Te Anau near our campground. The view of the lake outlined by the snow-capped mountains was breathtaking.  It was at this moment that I started to realize the beautiful journey that lay ahead of us, and the open road that would take us into more adventure than I had ever imagined.

We packed up the van and hit the road for Milford Sound.  About an hour into the drive, we heard the sound of the ever- familiar pitter patter on the roof of the van.  Passing by a gorgeous field with towering mountains in the background, we were urged to make a stop, mid-rain and proceeded to frolic and play a game of touch football accompanied by plenty of laughter. 

The rain proceeded to pick up steam and we were forced to retreat back into the van.  Looking ahead we saw a gloomy picture of fog and clouds covering the sky, forcing us to reassess our plans.  We unanimously decided that it would not be worth the drive all the way there to end up disappointed in the lack of scenery we would be able to see.  Without skipping a beat, we flipped around and headed in the direction we had just came.

So began the grueling 7-hour drive to Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers.  We of course had to make a pit stop in Queenstown for a bite at the famous Fergberger, a very popular burger joint renowned for its tasty and mighty in size burgers, accompanied by chips (fries) and aioli sauce of course.  As if we weren't full enough, we decided to top off the meal with some delicious gelato.

As the rain came pouring down, I felt my nerves bubbling up as I realized it was my turn to drive.  Mustering up my confidence, I hopped in the driver side and headed up the curviest, steepest road we had seen thus far.  I managed to safely maneuver my way around the curves and loosened up a bit once the road started to straighten out.

Looking back on this moment, I realize that this marked another milestone in overcoming one of my fears, the fear of driving an SUV (something I'm not used to) packed full of people, on the opposite side of the road, in the dark and rain.  Needless to say, by the end of the trip I was feeling pretty confident in my driving abilities and even found myself eagerly volunteering to take the wheel on many occasions the rest of the trip.

About three hours away from our campsite, we realized the tank was running low and it would probably be wise to fill up.  We stopped at a gas station only to find the gas pump was closed and we would have to pay $20 for them to turn it on.  Discovering that this was the last gas station until our destination, we were forced to pay the fee, only to find that a simple switch had to be flipped to turn on the pump.  A bit disgruntled, we continued on our journey in the pouring rain.  Thankfully, just as we arrived at our campsite, the rain stopped and we were able to set up camp.

Waking up the next morning, we set out to cook our first real meal: porridge.  We decided to spice things up a bit with canned peaches.  Being the determined person I am, I set out to wrestle with the can using a can opener that no one knew how to use.  And the inevitable happened: I managed to slice my finger, instigating the domino effect of injuries that ensued (more on this later).  After about thirty long minutes, the bleeding finally let up, and we finished up our generous meal, packed up the van and headed off to the glaciers.

Since we didn't pay to do a guided tour on the glaciers, we were limited to how far we could go near the glaciers, which ended up being a pretty disappointing distance away.  Thankfully, both glaciers were surrounded by absolutely stunning mountains that made the short hike totally worth it.  At Franz Josef, we saw beautiful waterfalls and a spectacular ice cave that we were able to venture near.

We then made our way to Greymouth, where we stayed with Sam's cousin, a fellow American who had studied abroad ten or so years ago, fell in love with a Kiwi and the rest is history.  Not to mention, Sam had never met her prior to this trip.  We enjoyed a wonderful homemade dinner of lamb, potatoes, salad and ice-cream.  Sam's cousin even let us stay in their camper van for the night, giving us a nice break from sleeping on the ground.  

The next morning, we hit the road to head off to our next adventure destination: Punakaiki pancake rocks and blackwater rafting, which was essentially tubing down a river in a cave under looking a ceiling covered with glow worms.

I was a little worried about the inevitable darkness that comes with being in a cave, but instead I found myself in awe of the darkness that was illuminated by the glow of thousands of glowworms above me as I slowly floated down the river.  After getting out of the caves, we drove to a seal colony nearby, just in time for sunset.  We then made our way to our campsite for the night.

The next morning we woke up to find that Sam was in quite a lot of pain from a mysterious tailbone injury (more on this later) and we began to reassess our plans which had been to go to Abel Tasman National Park and tramp (hike) for 3 days.  Not wanting to hold us behind, Sam decided to wait until we got there and see how she felt then. 


As we edged closer to Abel Tasman, I began to realize I had my own set of problems.  I had noticed some red painful bumps that I initially thought were sandfly bites, but I soon realized that they were not.  We swung by the nearest medical center and soon enough the doctor had diagnosed me with shingles, the adult form of chicken pox.

How in the world did this happen? I still have no idea.  But from what I was told they can appear simply from a run-down immune system and having not gotten much sleep and the fact that I had been sick a couple weeks prior to the trip, it seemed somewhat logical.  Still, shingles, something I never imagined I would have unless I was nearing my 60s.  Even having the prescribed medication did not ease my worries, but I was determined to not let this bring me down.



After getting out of my appointment and feeling pretty distraught, the group encouraged me to sneak into a nearby hostel and take a much-needed shower, which was just what I needed to bring my spirits back up.  Sam was feeling a lot better at this point in time as well so we continued onward to Abel Tasman and began our 3-day tramp.

The first day we raced the sun in order to set up camp before nightfall, which didn't happen of course.  And because of high tide and a simple misjudgment, Michelle and I got our hiking boots and socks soaked by the incoming tide, which left us cold and worried about how in the world we would dry them out.  We decided to hang the socks over the fire, only to find that socks do in fact burn.  Our hiking boots thankfully managed to mostly dry the next morning sitting out on the beach.

Over the course of the next two days, I was in awe of the surplus of stunning views.  From the sandy white beaches and beautifully blue water to the mossy jungle, Abel Tasman turned out to be one of the prettiest places I've been to in New Zealand thus far.

Despite the group's struggles, we finally managed to make it to a campsite before nightfall, set up the tents without any problems and sat down for a less than satisfying meal of mushy spaghetti but we were one happy bunch regardless.

 The last day, as we hastily made our way to the beach where the water taxi would take us back to our van, we realized that the time we had allotted for (as advised by the lady at the information desk) was not nearly enough time to make it there.  A bit stressed and on edge, we reached a hut thankfully to find a very helpful employee who rebooked our water taxi to pick us up at a different beach.

By this point, we were all exhausted and ready to get back.  I was extremely happy to see the water taxi in the distance, but when the ride back ended up taking two hours this initial happiness disippated.  At this point, Sam was in a lot of pain from her mysterious tailbone injury and was doing all that she could to fight back the tears.

 We finally made it back to the van and realized Sam needed to be taken to the medical center.  So back we went to the same one we had been at for my shingles situation.  After examining Sam, the doctor told her she had an abscess (caused from an ingrown hair) and needed to have surgery.  I came into the operating room with Sam and the doctors proceeded to slice open the abscess and drain the fluid.

After ten minutes of excruciating pain, it was finally over.  They put on a dressing and told Sam that she would have to get it changed every day for 7 days.  Despite the ordeal, Sam managed to put on a brave and smiling face as we hopped back into the van determined to find a hostel for the night.


Thankfully, we managed to find one and got some much needed rest.  The next morning we made our way to Kaikoura, making a pit stop for a short walk to a waterfall where we witnessed about 15 or so seal pups playfully swimming in the water.  It was such an unbelievable sight and it definitely lifted the spirits of the group.


Our next destination was Kaikoura, a beautiful coastal town nestled between snow-capped mountains and the beautifully blue water of the Pacific Ocean.  This was yet another place where I was in awe of the pure beauty that surrounded me.

After breezing through this oasis, we made our way to Hanmer Springs, for much-needed time at the hot springs.  However, it was here that we found out Sam would need to get another surgery once back in Dunedin.  At this point, we all knew that we had to get back as soon as possible and the only thing that was between us and getting back was a 7-hour grueling drive, that Sam would be in pain for the majority of.  And to top it off, a mere two hours away from Dunedin, we managed to get pulled over by the cops.  Bad luck indeed.

Looking back on this week and all that went awry, I can see how anyone reading this may think boy, what a disaster of a week.  In all honesty, I thought this myself at one point or another during the course of the week.  We had definitely had our fair share of misfortunes and bad luck, but I would not trade this week for anything in the world.

It was a week packed full of adventure and one that I will never forget.  All the crummy times made me realize how valuable the littlest things are and how it is so easy to get swept up in the negatives and miss out on all the good passing by you each and every second.

We had managed to see the sheer beauty of the south island in one short week as well as experience the inevitable misfortunes one encounters on a road trip.  But I will never forget the memories made on this trip, all the laughter, all the tears and all the mood swings in between.  In one short week, I learned the value of friendship, support and encouragement.  Looking back on this week, I can't help but smile at all the adventures we had as a group, as an unconventional family of adventure world travelers and boy, what a week to remember it was.