One of the tricky things about writing, or about any art form, is that in order for it to mean the most, to be the most genuine, you have to create it for yourself. And then you share this personal thing with others.
It’s a place of vulnerability.
This can be challenging if you’ve been brought up to please others, used to living a life in which it feels crucial to appear a certain nebulous “right” way rather than as yourself. You can lose track of what “yourself” means, who “yourself” is.
That’s me, I’m afraid. Much less so than in the past. But evidently still me, now and then. I just went through an intense week of Not Enough, of loss of self. And thus, the gap since my last post in my 100 Day Challenge.
And the only way I could find my way back was to write about it. As honestly as I can.
I’ve worked hard for many years to identify, name and let go of unexamined beliefs and habits of thought from childhood that have gotten in my way of knowing and loving myself. There’s been a lot to unravel. I use the term “worked hard” purposefully. I sometimes oppose this idiom (“He’s such a hard worker” “The rewards of hard work”), since working diligently at something doesn’t always have to feel hard, and sometimes I think we need it to feel hard in order to give it value. Why can’t work be pleasurable?
But in the case of making internal changes through therapy and self-examination and developing new practices, well that is often hard. Rewarding and great and difficult and uncomfortable all at once.
So, what was this “right” way of being for me? Well, it depended on the context and who I was with. But in general, it meant being cheerful, friendly and agreeable.
The only way I was accepted as a child—I came to believe—was to appear cheerful, friendly and agreeable ALL of the time, and of course nobody is cheerful, friendly and agreeable all of the time. But I tried, so much so that I internalized that cheerfulness. It became my story. Look at me; I’m a cheerful, bubbly person worth loving!
I wore a smile. ALL the time. My cheekbones often hurt at the end of the day. Once when I was teaching high school at 25 years old, a student said to me, “Ms. Parker, we can’t tell when you’re angry. You’re always smiling.”
Anytime I felt sad, angry, disappointed, anxious, frustrated—anything but happy and cheerful—I thought something was wrong with me. I couldn’t name the emotion. I had no practice in identifying those “other” feelings while I had a lot of practice in denying them, mentally blacking them out with felt-tipped markers.
As a result, during my youth through early adulthood—okay honesty, into my 40s—I felt crazy. I came to understand that this came mostly from not being able to feel truthfully and to feel without judgment. It was fascinating, once I became aware of it, how at times I would get “fuzzy-headed” in order to not think or feel. My brain looked like a Peanuts comic strip teacher voice, just a cloud of scribbles. Once I became aware of this habit, however, it became an important cue. Aha! What am I actually feeling right now?
It’s difficult to trust yourself when you can’t even be honest with yourself about your feelings and when you’re living in constant judgment of those feelings. Cheerfulness=good. Anger=bad. Agree=good. Disagree with loved ones=bad. Thus, you’re bad a great deal of the time. What horrible requirements to put upon oneself! Those expectations may have originally come from family when I was a kid, but most likely, they don’t even expect quite that much of me! Maybe they never did. But I was a child, egoistical by nature, as you’re supposed to be for survival at that age, and that’s how I interpreted my situation. I received positive feedback from acting on these beliefs. And then I just kept them going, assuming everyone else in my life would have similar expectations. Not consciously, of course. Synapsis that fire together wire together.
Because I had to be agreeable, I had to be careful not to be contrary. I couldn’t want different things, or rather, I could want all kinds of things—that I couldn’t have. And I had to accept and adjust to all kinds of things I didn’t want. I had a difficult time—and still do sometimes—saying no. It sucks to admit that this is still an issue.
There’s incredible self-power in the word NO. Please don’t ever shame a three-year old for saying it. And they will probably say it a lot! It’s just a healthy early step into autonomy, into setting boundaries, into feeling a sense of control over one’s life. Sure, they might still need to go to bed or get dressed or clean up. Just find another way than shaming them or telling them—through actions or words—that they are bad, that saying no is wrong. Maybe say, “Okay, you don’t have to clean up. Let’s play a game. Who can get the most toys in that bin in the shortest amount of time. Ready? Go!” I’m sure there’s great strategies online.
I’m not entirely sure of the trigger for my recent loss of self. I am juggling too many projects for work. And because my work is with older people looking mortality in the face, there’s a real time pressure, and I feel unprofessional elongating timeframes. That goes right to shame. Maybe this is just too abundant right now. My father-in-law, who accepted me and supported me unconditionally, died. There are unexpectedly a lot of parenting duties with teenagers. It makes sense now, but not while looking ahead. They are applying for colleges, have to do service hours, have bus passes and lunch accounts that need refilling and payments that must be made and school projects of their own that could use some proofreading. They need new shoes. They have their own struggles. There are family logistics galore.
It’s also the holidays. And when I can fully step into holiday traditions, gift giving and buying and decorating and cookie making and the lot, I absolutely love it. I always just want to be more domestic this time of year, clean house while playing Christmas songs on Alexa.
And I put this weird constant pressure on myself about earning money. Yes, it is an actual need for the family, but there’s this annoying psychological aspect of it for me as well. Money-making is tied to self-worth and manipulation and all kinds of things. It’s tricky. And though I’ve worked on putting this puzzle together over the years, there are a few missing pieces still. More to be examined. What is success? For me, not others? Does money have to be a part of it? Am I feeling unworthy of the kind of earnings I want and feel capable of?
And when it comes to my 100 Day Challenge, I became aware of an audience. That’s what I want. It’s great! But I started thinking more about the audience than me when looking at what to write next. Most of my blogs have taken hours to write instead of the 20 to 30 minutes I intended. And I want to make room for that, but didn’t think I had “the right,” not in my “busy schedule.” Yeah, a few questions to answer!
But whatever! I’ll work on answering them. In the meantime, It feels good to be writing again!
Brene Brown—bless her!—says that “Perfectionism is a form of shame.” So, I’m putting my imperfect self out there. I didn’t do my 100 Day Challenge in 100 days. I’m not sure I’ll make it in 120 days. But I will write 100 posts. And hopefully care about all of them. I know it’s “about the process.” It’s just that the process is also fraught with imperfection and questions and emotions. But maybe that’s what it’s all about.
It does feel awfully good to be kind to myself again. I recommend it.
Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash