Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

So what's the big deal if sometimes my words don't come out right or I say the wrong thing at the wrong time? What does it matter if I misread, misinterpret or misunderstand? So what if I don't get it right the first time every time?


So what?


It is so easy to ask myself these questions and in so doing really convince myself that I don't have to care so much about screwing up, wigging out or stepping back. In fact, in this moment, I truly feel in my soul that it's okay- even healthy- for me to do these things from time to time. But in the next moment, the very second I might open my mouth and words pop out and I am staring in the face of another human being, I sell my soul to the devil. I stop feeling the freedom to be human. I start feeling flawed, messed up, useless. I feel like an impostor, a fraud, and a liar.

But the reality is, it isn't so much that I am the liar. There is an enemy who has a hold of my brain and my heart and who feeds me these lies that keep me all tied up. I give in to the fear that I'm not good enough. That I'm a screw up. I'm not smart enough, pretty enough, creative enough, articulate enough. I'm too quiet. I'm too loud. I'm too happy, too sad. I'm too passive, too controlling. I'm too emotional, too distant.


It is maddening.


I want it to stop.  I want to sit in a room with a group of people and feel like I am comfortable in my own skin, my own mouth, my own brain. That what I say matters as much and as little as the next person. That I am not measured by my single contribution to a moment but that my single contribution can also be the moment itself.


I so desperately want to just be free. Free to be me. 


So, to the enemy: 
You don't get to win anymore. I see you for what you are. Liar, liar pants on fire.