Anxious

As you probably know, I like to play golf. I’ve got better over the years. I had lessons which helped. Sometimes I play really well. That’s when I wonder why I can’t play like that all the time. But I don’t. Right now though my golf isn’t at it’s best. And, it seems, playing golf is like life: the harder you try, the more difficult it can become! There’s phrase golfers sometimes use: golf is about no conscious effort. It’s true. As soon as you start to analyse your swing and try to do certain things, it breaks down. It doesn’t work. In football, if you’re playing a match and it’s not going well, you can run more, tackle harder, stay closer to you man. But in golf, it’s no conscious effort. In life, it seems to me, that the harder I try, the more anxious I become. I had one of those experiences that captures this for me the other week. We went to play Top Golf. It’s fun. Or it’s meant to be. You hit golf balls into the range where there are huge holes scattered around. You score points if your ball goes in a hole. And you can score different points depending which of the giant holed you get the ball into. But it’s designed so everyone has a chance of scoring and scoring well. So, it’s not about hitting the ball a long way. Here’s what happened for me: I was the golfer in the family group. Massive pressure on me to “perform”. I should be the best simply because I actually play golf. No-one else plays golf. But I’m not doing well. Now I’m a failure. And the more I tried to hit the ball properly and score points, the less well I did it. My heart was pounding. My mind was racing. What I wanted in those moments, was for the ground to open up and swallow me. Or the second coming to happen. You might think I’m exaggerating. I’m not. It was my worst nightmare come true. Tragically, the only person who noticed, was me. It’s tragic, because rightly, no-one else is bothered. But I’ve written myself off as a failure. A complete failure. I didn’t enjoy it. At all. And the more anxious I became. the worse it got. It’s a microcosm of how life can sometimes be. The harder I try to achieve, or be successful, the worse I feel. The harder I try to be the person I imagine I should be or ought to be, the more I wrestle with the feelings of failure. The truth, though is different. Absolutely different. Couldn’t be more different. I am loved with a love that makes me beautiful. I am loved as much as I can be loved. I can’t do anything or achieve anything that will make me more loved. I would do well to dwell on these deep and profound truths. I do try. And, sometimes, like my golf, I do well. Sometimes, like my golf, I don’t do so well. I’m working on no conscious effort. On the golf course and in life. Maybe you could too.