it's OK to lose sometimes

Growing up I cared greatly about what other people thought. From fifth grade to tenth grade I floated from group to group not ever really fitting in with anyone. I found a solid group of friends in the middle of my sophomore year in high school, and then we graduated and I moved away for college. I was so socially timid that I didn't make friends until a girl on my floor--who is still one of my all-time best-ever friends--invited me to watch the boys' dorm football game. Over the years I've repeatedly overcome this fear of vulnerability and have become far more comfortable in my own skin. I'm not nearly as hesitant to put myself out there and risk my pride. And then I entered the Albion contest and told the internet about it.

{Wearing my jacket while running errands today}

Now anyone could see what I made and judge it. I knew the fabric wouldn't be everyone's choice, that the orange accents might make some people cringe. But I loved it. And I told all of you about it. The jacket is certainly not perfectly constructed. I can see a million little places that could have used more attention or even a do-over. But I took pictures and posted them and even entered a contest where so many strangers could see my jacket and comment on it. And I'm so glad I did this.

When I learned who the winners were for the Albion contest, I was disappointed. Very disappointed. My eyes may have even smarted a little. Part of me was afraid that when I let my circles of friends and supporters know about the results, that I'd let them down. Everyone was so excited for me! And it felt so great to have so many cheerleaders in my corner! And what would it feel like to disappoint them? But then I realized something really important: you wonderful people didn't support me because you were counting on me to bring home a $2500 sewing machine--you all supported me because you're my friends. And that's just what friends do.

So when I lost the contest, that's all it was: losing a contest. I love everything about my jacket. It's not perfect, but I love it. And that's what matters. The outcome says nothing about my value as a person or even my value as a seamstress. I am so glad I entered and that I told you about it, because all the fallout was good fallout. I didn't win the competition, and that's okay. Because the good things in my life have nothing to do with competition.