I have nothing to write to you today.
As a writer, it’s the worst feeling, like a cheese-maker, moving to a town where everyone is lactose-intolerant. I have no gift to share.
To feel better, I logged into the blog to see how many posts I had written- one thousand four hundred and seventy-one.
Highly Problematic.
One thousand four hundred seventy-one pieces of evidence disprove my inner claim of ineptitude, and yet, my brain has enough leverage to distract me from making the world a better place Post-Jeffrey-Fuckin-Jucha than it was Pre-Jeffrey-Fuckin-Jucha.
Here’s what I’ll do about it. Come with Me…
When I was 22, I wrote the worst business plan for a gym you’ve ever seen. I took it to 14 people and asked them for a loan. Thirteen were banks; all said no, and one laughed at me.
The fourteenth person said, “When do we start?” and my business of 13 years was born.
Later, a great businessman told me, “That guy probably said yes because you came to him after all those rejections. I would have invested in you, too.”
I just had to show up one more time.
Showing up served me well. My grades, classmates, and struggle to sit still and focus told me I wasn’t smart. In fact, I had to repeat college algebra three times. I failed the first time because of a girl. I failed a second time because, well, a different girl. The third time, I showed up early, sat at the front of the class, and stayed late to finish the first homework problem before I left every day.
I left that third round with a B-
And you know what? I had just as much girl drama as the first two tries. (same girl, though).
I just had to show up one more time.
Years later, an Occupational Therapist would watch me write on a whiteboard at my gym and ask me, “Have you ever been tested for Dyslexia?” Because I sometimes write words and letters are out of order.
I’m not an expert; I may not be traditionally gifted, but I can show up repeatedly, a little brighter and wiser each time.
Who’s to say resilience isn’t just as (if not more) important than smarts, genetics, or talent?
We all have unique and useful superpowers if we view them as such. Some people have a gut feeling; others can write a symphony at age 8. I, on the other hand, can get punched right in the nose by life (or a person), knowing full well I’m going to get punched again if I get up, and then get up again anyway until I get what I came for.
I don’t have all the important answers; I haven’t gotten up enough times yet. But I do know the answers won’t come from giving up easily.
Fifteen minutes ago, I was a failed writer with nothing to offer you, and then, I started writing anyway.
So, with my PhD bestowed upon me by the School of Hard Knocks, I give you the following advice,
“When in doubt, show up one.more.time.”
Have Fun,
-J
