Tonight I had a conversation with myself, as I’m sure (or hope) we all do.

It was on the subject of hidden abilities, and why they are and remain hidden in me.

After all the excuses, and the justifications, it’s pretty simple: I hide because I’m scared.

I’m afraid that if everyone had known all of what I had to offer, then there would be no redemption if I screwed something up.

I can drum. But, if that doesn’t work, I can sing. If I do both at once and fail miserably at them both, then I have nothing else to give.

And, I realize, writing this, that there are still qualities — mostly of character — that are worth more than my capacities and capabilities at any given moment.

Patience, wisdom, love — all those are far more valuable than my ability to be skillful or effective in any given venture. To develop my character is far more important than to develop perfect time or pitch, rhyme or reason. It’s about who I am, not what I (can) do.

This fear persisted that if I didn’t meet the standard, for some reason, then I’d be useless, rejected and tossed out. And this I’ve felt for good reason: because history has shown me so.

However, at this point, as a write this — and emotions of bravery, resilience and pride bubble up in me — I am convinced that they were not my judges, neither were they the judges that had made themselves out to be.

However, again, I’m reminded of the faults and general screw-ups I’ve committed, been indicted for, or have otherwise been burdened with. And, again, the fear is real: If my character is flawed, then how can anything but my abilities, capacities and capabilities be worth anything to those around me?

So in the end, I hide to limit rejections. And, I give as I trust, or as I must, in order to maintain acceptance, which, in turn, mitigates rejection.