I think I failed

Whenever we sit in the tension of doubt and unsureness, it is our human nature to rush to make everything as comfortably certain as possible. To sit with insecurity, instability, and anxiety without attempting to solve any of it is as inhuman as resisting belly-hurting laughter when watching your favorite comedian. It’s not what we do. When we are uncomfortable, we seek comfort as fast as humanly possible, not ceasing until comfort has been found.

This is where I find myself at present. I am full of doubt. I am full of unsureness. I am full of insecurity, instability, and anxiety. I don’t know whether I am coming or going. I don’t know what to do or what not to do. I don’t know whether to quit or to march on. I am lost, confused, and in desperate need of answers. Answers that, of course, are nowhere to be found. The harder I seek, the more they hide. They are quite the hide-and-seek players. I’ve never won against those little buggers.

Many of you might not know this, but I am a traditionally published author. My book, We’ll All Be Free, debuted on July 25, 2023, with Baker Books. I worked on that little book for over two years, desperate to make my dream of writing a book that changed lives into reality. And, it did become a reality. At least, the physicality of it. It is a physical book; that part did happen. A few of you have bought the book, which I can never express more gratitude for. However, once the book was out into the world, the career and confirming purpose that I just knew would finally be mine all but arrived at my front doorstep. I just knew that once my book was published, my career that I have spent years trying to define, redefine, and then define again would finally be….defined. I just knew that the speaking engagements would start rolling in, the book would surpass my expectations by landing in the top 100 charts on Amazon, and I would be well on my way to a 2nd and 3rd book deal because clearly, I am the author that everyone can’t get enough of. I prayed, hoped, and pleaded with God that this would finally be my moment. I had been praying for years to finally have my moment. That moment that said, “You’ve made it Caroline. Success is here. You finally have your career, you figured out what you were meant for because your success has proven such. You are wanted, needed, and worthy. You are more than good at what you do, you are exceptional. You finally figured it out. Now you can go through life with assurance in what you were meant to do and who you were meant to be.”

I did not have that moment. I am still waiting for that moment. I continue waiting for a moment that will likely never happen, and though the depth of my soul knows that, I can’t help but still chase that moment. I’m desperate for it. I’m desperate for this finite moment of validation that has defined my life since I was old enough to have thoughts about needing such validation. I have wanted nothing more than to land somewhere that unequivocally proves that there is this exceptional reason for my existence. Like, “A-ha! I’ve found it! This is my purpose. This is my calling. My life is not in vain because I was put on the Earth for this.”

I know this all sounds arbitrary. I probably sound like a brat. The fact that I wrote a book that got published should be enough. Or, the fact that I’m a mother who’s raising two beautiful daughters should be enough to fill this need. While I’ve always desired motherhood and knew that motherhood was a major part of my purpose for being on this Earth, I’ve never felt satisfied with that being the only purpose. And, the way that my brain works, mediocre results, and subpar responses to the work that I do only prove that perhaps it wasn’t my purpose after all. Perhaps I have missed the mark…again. Perhaps this umpteenth redefinition of my work was still vastly incorrect because, once again, I have been met with failure.

I cannot tell you how much it hurts to see nearly every one of my peers who also released their first books in the last year or two have nothing but growth, success, more opportunities, and more clarity in their careers, and not have experienced the same thing. I’ve cried tears in prayers, begging for God to allow the moment I published my book to be the moment that opened the doors that have been locked shut for so long. I thought I deserved for doors to be opened. I thought I deserved the growth, the opportunities, and the evidence of the great impact that my work has had. I look around and see so many authors changing lives with their words, and no, it’s not with their umpteenth book. It’s with their first book. Many want to tell me that maybe it will happen with the next one, or maybe it will take 5 books before my work reaches beyond a few hundred people, but there will be no second book if I can’t make a profound impact with the first one. No one will take a chance on a second-time author who couldn’t even sell her first book.

Again, I know this all sounds so bratty and arbitrary. I’ve been praying and journaling about why this is so important to me. Why can’t I just let this go? I tried! I should rest in being mediocre. I should bask in being average. I should be grateful for the few people I know my work has had an impact on. I’ve received comments and reviews here and there about how my book changed the way they saw themselves and the world around them, which is all I ever wanted to do. And, I am so grateful for the 20 of you who have taken the time to support my work and reach out with messages about how much you enjoyed it. I just wanted that 20 to be 2,000 or 20,000. I have been relying on the success of my work to prove that I am actually supposed to be doing this work. The lack of response has me in a spiral of doubt. If I had gotten this right, if I hadn’t missed the mark, the work would have made waves by now. The waves would be the proof that I didn’t make a mistake in pursuing this work, that this work and my words are in demand and the world needs more of them. It would justify the hours I spend each evening after a long day of homeschooling, chauffering, and isolation. It would give me a sense of goodness — that I am good. And all I’ve ever wanted to be is good.

All I’ve ever wanted was to be good.

I’ve spent my life dreaming of being this…person. This person who has this crazy important job and who is good at that crazy important job and that crazy important job changes the lives of everyone who comes in contact with it. I don’t know where this need or desire is rooted. My book unpacks the societal pressure to be successful, beautiful, and perfect in the eyes of white supremacy culture, and how those pressures have demolished our self-worth. And, while I don’t think I’m attaching my overall self-worth to the pressures of white supremacy culture and continue to refuse to hustle in the name of society’s stamp of approval, as a human, I still have this deep need to feel undoubtedly confident in my life’s work, and it remains so difficult to do so when the world sees my work and looks the other direction. How am I supposed to continue to believe in myself and my work when most people don’t even think it’s worth more than a glance?

I think…I think humans need external validation. I don’t think there is any way to escape this need. Yes, one cannot rely on external validation solely. That will destroy us. But, solely relying on internal validation has its limits, too. I’m experiencing a few of those limitations right now. Without external validation of my work, I cannot be confident in it. The deafening silence is telling me that I need to quit while I’m ahead. I’m not seeking celebrity status by any means, but one knows their work is “working” when there is feedback to prove that it is. Every artist, creator, writer, and educator I follow has consistent feedback via a growing community, a high volume of commentary, continuous financial support of their products and services, and more. I have never had consistent positive feedback in this way. Keyword: consistent. I don’t say this to diminish the positive feedback that I get from a handful of my loyal community members. Again, I’m forever grateful for you all. But, at what point do you realize that you can only go so far with the same 20 people cheering you on? If you never grow, if your work never takes off, if your results are inconsistent, at what point do you stop the insanity? The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Here I am, trying the same thing over and over again, and hoping that one day, results will be different. It’s insanity.

So, here I am in the vulnerable position of admitting my doubt, unsureness, and deep sadness. I’ve been reflecting, journaling, and brainstorming about what I can do to finally stop feeling this way. What am I supposed to be doing? Should I be changing what I write about? What if I want to do more personal stuff alongside my educational stuff? Should I do more of this or more of that? Should I stop altogether? Is this even meant for me? Is this sustainable?

The last question is the big one. I have two daughters with me full-time. My primary career is as their home educator. It is not what I had in mind for myself, but I’m honored to sacrifice for them in this way because they deserve it. If I am to be working part-time alongside my full-time role as a home educator, it must be sustainable and it must yield fruit. Both overwhelmingly positive fruit in the form of feedback and impact and financial fruit that will compensate me for the hours of work I put into the researching, writing, and educating I do. It must yield fruit in terms of book sales, opportunities, and growth that my family can benefit from as a reward for their sacrifice for every bedtime routine mommy isn’t present for. None of this is happening. I am working for mostly free and I barely have book sales, positive feedback, growth, or opportunities to confirm that I am in the right place to show for myself. All of this combined is enough to cause one to feel like the signs are pointing to a giant QUIT sign that is flashing in neon red that I have been conveniently ignoring. I tried, but perhaps God is telling me that fulfilling careers doing what you love is for everyone else and not me. And perhaps that’s what I have to be okay with surrendering.

As much as I want to fix this crippling insecurity and anxiety that is plaguing me, as is human nature to do, I’m forcing myself to sit and stew in it. I cannot force a solution. All I can do is sit in this until I hear a definitive, “move,” from the Holy Spirit.

This is hard, messy, and vulnerable. I’m really putting myself out there with this article. But, this is where I am right now. And, I refuse to be one of those creators that only shows the highlight reel. This is life, this is where I am with this work, this is part of the reason for the inconsistency, and this is the real result of what happens when you take big leaps of faith and it doesn’t work.

*sigh*

Thank you for reading, friend.

I’d like your feedback below if you have time for it. How can I make my work better? How can I make it more appealing? How can I make my words something that folks flock to because they are just that impactful? What more would you like to see from me? Is there anything else I should consider?

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