The Audacity to Be Enough

I’ve spent my four decades on this planet chasing my dreams. At times, it has felt more like chasing my own tail, but chasing something nonetheless. Even the words you’re reading on your phone or computer screen are another pursuit of mine. I’ve been spilling words on blank pages, images on photo sensors, voices on recording tape, and all manner of creative ventures for as long as I can remember. But why? I’ve been doing all of this so long that I sometimes wonder if this is still my dream—and what exactly that dream entails.

Today, while writing this article (one that was a mocking blank page all week until this very moment), I think I may have figured it out. Although I’m wildly creative and love telling stories in various media formats, my dream has nothing to do with that. It’s about being enough. It’s about finding and accepting love. That is what I’ve been chasing all these years. I just want to be enough. And for whatever reason, for as long as I can remember, I haven’t been.

I don’t know exactly when that seed of insecurity was planted in my mind, although I have some decent ideas. Growing up felt like a revolving door of people who said they cared and then disappeared. I grew up skeptical of “I love you’s” and other kind words because they usually led to manipulation of some sort. Gifts were something to be lorded over you later when you messed up. Everything seemed to have a price or strings attached.

I internalized many of these events and began to think maybe I was the reason this or that person left, or maybe I deserved to be treated the way I was at times. I was the nerdy, quiet kid with glasses in elementary and middle school, which made me an easy target for bullies. Thankfully, this changed in the later part of high school when I found confidence on the wrestling mat and later with music. Still, deep down, I felt like I wasn’t enough.

I guess that’s why simple things like getting rejection letters from magazines, publishers, record labels, TV stations, and the like felt more personal than they should have. Each rejection wasn’t so much about the specific creative venture that was being denied, but about the culmination of all the other “no’s” I’d received up until that point. I devolved back into that small, bespectacled kid getting picked on in the back of the school bus. I must have done something wrong, or maybe I wasn’t any good at any of this stuff, I’d think to myself.

The cycle repeated over and over again. As a defense mechanism, I often adopted a negative outlook on things. I wouldn’t give myself the chance to get my hopes up because I didn’t want to drop my guard and get hurt again. They can’t hurt you if nothing matters anyway—or at least that was the lie I told myself.

It’s also somewhat comical that, despite the numerous positive comments and reviews I’ve received over the years on my creative works, it’s always the bad reviews and negative people I remember. Those destructive voices seemed to perfectly accent my worst fears. It was as if their harmful words exposed me as the imposter I felt I was. Please don’t let them know I’m just faking this, one word at a time!

While chasing the dream, somewhere along the way I made it about chasing affection. “If they don’t like my art, maybe they don’t like me,” I’d unconsciously think to myself. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve got it all figured out, but a good friend sat me down one day and helped me realize a few things.

The first thing he hammered into me was: “It’s not about you.” Meaning, everyone has their own lives and problems. People aren’t intentionally trying to hurt you. And if they are, well—screw those people, they’re not your audience anyway.

The next thing, and the hardest for me to take to heart, was to own my stuff. He actually said something to the effect of, “You’re extremely talented—it’s time to own that shit.” Take ownership of your successes the same way you dwell on the perceived failures. Allow yourself small victories, and for God’s sake recognize a win for a win. Get out of your own way and realize that you are good at what you do.

If you’re not as good as you want to be, work harder. Then work the hardest. Be undeniable. Then, if people don’t like you or your work, it’s their problem, because you’ve risen above caring whether they like it or not. The goal is to do it for yourself. Own your shit. It’s not about you anyway.

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Stan Lake is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker currently living in Bethania, North Carolina with his wife Jess and their house full of animals. He split his time growing up between chasing wildlife and screaming on stages in hardcore bands you’ve never heard of. He has been published by Dead Reckoning Collective, The Havok Journal, Reptiles Magazine, Lethal Minds Journal, and many others. He filmed and directed a documentary called “Hammer Down” about his 2005 deployment in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom in with Alpha Battery 5-113^th of the NC Army National Guard. You can find his books, collected works, and social media accounts at www.stanlakecreates.com

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.