Do You Believe In Yourself?

I received an e-mail earlier this week from a fellow blogger asking for advice on growing their blog. This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked this question. After much frowning of brows and scratching of heads I cobbled together a reply where I talked about quality writing, consistent themes and regular interaction with fellow bloggers. Something like that. You get my drift. Etc etc.

The reality is, I haven’t a clue. When I started writing almost two years ago now, it was because Fionnuala saw a talent in my writing and encouraged (forced) me to share it with the world. I never expected it to take off like it has and I never thought I’d now be looking at a blog with almost 9000 followers. One person, my wife, believed in me at a stage in my life when I didn’t believe in myself.

I don’t consider myself a particularly gifted wordsmith. Every day I marvel at the talent of fellow bloggers who, quite frankly, knock my clumsy prose out of the ball park. They have bigger, better stories to tell than me which they do with a skill, passion and verve that I struggle to emulate. Some of you people have no idea how good you are. Seriously. You need to go away and write a NYT bestseller. This minute. Now. Go.

Sooooo….what is it I do? Well, I try to post every day. I’m present, I’m here, that annoying relative who is always the last to leave family functions, making you think they have no home to go to. That’s me. Although I try to turn the annoying dial down to the bare minimum. Some of the best feedback I get is from people saying they look forward to reading my blog every day. I’m a familiar, comfortable pair of old slippers.

I seek to reassure people. To tell them they’re not alone, and there is hope even on the most desolate, windswept nights. I want to be a light, a strong hand hauling them from whatever deep pit they have fallen down. For I’ve been there but was unfortunate enough to survive and clamber out to tell the tale. The blog is a living testimony to that. I want to help, I want to put my own many failings to good use.

I want to make you smile, think, engage, and, most of all, believe. Believe in yourself. For there is a gift within you begging to be birthed, for all to see. For if you believe in something hard enough, then it will happen. Don’t buy that? Then check out that 15 stone, hungover, miserable couch potato who used to dream of running marathons and writing books. Six years later I’m doing both.

You see, I’m nothing special. But one day, the penny dropped. Just as Fionnuala believed in me, I began to bet on my own inherent ability. Initially it was a long shot, a Hail Mary pass of ridiculous proportions. But, occasionally, the long shot romps home first past the finishing past. Occasionally the Hail Mary bobbles and bounces into the grateful hands of the wide receiver.

So, my advice to you all, whatever you are doing, is to believe in yourself. You only get one shot and you’re a long time dead. If you have a dream, pursue it. With passion and tenacity. Let your talent breathe and your hopes soar high into the sky. Live the impossible. It’s closer than you think. That new life is there for the taking. All you have to do is reach out and touch it. Written by one who knows.

Do you believe in yourself?

What makes a good blogger?

The Wrong Trousers

Today was my first day back at work following the plague like virus I have had in recent weeks. I haven’t been running, in fact I have rarely ventured off the sofa in days. The exception has been regular visits to the kitchen for crisps, biscuits, chocolate and my particular Achilles heel….ice cream!

I am a comfort eater. And as I have been feeling sorry for myself of late I have slid off the healthy lifestyle wagon with a resounding thump. My marathon dreams have meandered on down the track as I have sat at the roadside, alone apart from a spoon and a litre tub of honeycomb ice cream.

I had been dreading today’s return for a variety of reasons. The mountain of paperwork that would undoubtedly be awaiting me; the hundreds of e-mails cluttering my inbox; and the 212 times I would have to rhyme off my symptoms and treatment to concerned (translation – nosy) work colleagues. 

My greatest fear, however, was would my work clothes fit me after a week in fashionable loungewear. (this year’s must have accessory for the trend setting father is a pair of Buzz Lightyear pyjama bottoms) I had gone full blown Honey Boo Boo on the clothing front. If it didn’t involve an elasticated waistline then I didn’t want to know. 

So it was with some trepidation that I eyed up my work trousers as they hung in the wardrobe. This trepidation grew as I pulled them on to discover with horror that they barely pulled up over my thighs. I had gained 165 pounds. In a week! How was that even possible?! I was a broken man as I hopped out of our bedroom clutching my trousers (pants for our North American readers) and despairingly wailed ‘FIONNUALA!!!’ down the stairs.

My long suffering wife responded quickly, concerned no doubt that my appendix had burst or some other calamity had befallen me. This initial sympathy, wavered somewhat, when she realised the true nature of my #firstworldproblem. For as she looked up towards the pitiful manchild tottering at the top of the stairs clutching a pair of trousers round his knees she uttered the following words of wisdom.

‘You idiot! You are wearing Adam’s school trousers!!’ Oh….

Humiliated (but mostly relieved) I beat a tactical retreat back into the bedroom where I located the correct trousers. Thankfully they were only slightly tighter than when I last had worn them. Disaster had been narrowly averted and I was able to negotiate dressing myself and catch the train to work. Behind every mildly successful middle manager is an exasperated wife. 


How many times have we adapted our personalities, values and beliefs in order to fit in with others? This peer pressure is thrust upon us from an early age and many crack under the strain in order to attain popularity and status. And while on the exterior all might appear well on the inside we feel awkward, uncomfortable and compromised. Like an ill fitting dress or pair of trousers.

Trying to be somebody who we are patently not usually ends in a car crash. We distance ourselves from our real friends and invariably end up with egg on our face. I have been down this path, the wrong path, many times. Mixing with people who I knew were not good for me and indulging in behaviour which was completely alien to the real me. It was akin to an out of body experience as I watched myself stagger from one disaster to the next. That path led only to sin, shame and guilt.

God created you to be you. Not someone else but YOU! He created you for a reason and placed you where you are today with the skill set you possess for a Kingdom purpose. It might not be apparent to you just yet what that purpose is but we must trust He who knows us intimately. To try and be someone who you are not is being disobedient to his will. As well as being ungrateful to a God who loves you and views you as perfect in his eyes.

You might look in the mirror today and hate what you see and hear. That mirror and your perception of what you see in it are barriers to God’s purpose for your life. If you want to make an impact and leave behind you a legacy then you have to learn to love yourself before you can learn to love others. And if that means ice cream over self esteem then go for it. 

Trust God and be yourself. Warts and all. Rather that than a vain man bleating to his wife with his trousers round his ankles.

Because that is not a good look….

Psalm 139:13-14 – ‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;’

What has been your biggest wardrobe malfunction?

What is your ‘go to’ loungewear ensemble?

How do you deal with peer pressure?

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