It’s not all going to happen right now. And that is okay.
A dear friend of mine gave me a mug for my birthday this past year with the note that read “Celebrate the Small Victories.” This year, especially, this seems to be such an important statement.
In addition to all of our own individual struggles, we have been shoulder-deep in this pandemic, battling compassion fatigue and a bit of burnout, and navigating the widespread divisions, ruptures, and pain in our country. This time has been nothing short of overwhelming. And we are just starting to have hope that there may be a light at the end of the tunnel.
This has been a time for deep reflection. I have been, in what I call, a perpetual cycle of “rupture and repair”. In this, I have found myself face to face with shame narratives I both had been running from and, honestly, did not know existed. For years, I staked my life on being “the best”. I know I have shared with you before about my struggles to really understand and feel comfortable being a learner and that I ran from vulnerability faster than Usain Bolt can run the 100-meter sprint.
Why?
Because of the fear of being seen as less than or not enough.
The fear of being rejected or judged. In order to be loved, I felt the need to be perfect. I had to be someone people looked up to while simultaneously being there for everyone around me in order to have any chance of connection. But at what cost?
We have all done this in some way. Telling people we are “fine” when we feel like we are crumbling. Putting a different version of ourselves on social media than the one standing in the mirror looking back at us. Keeping up with the idea of “success” while resentment, anger, loneliness, and sadness creeps in.
But the outcome of this existence is that we continue to detach from our true selves in order to perform in these roles which only perpetuate the shame narrative that fuels them — that we are not enough unless [fill in the blank].
When Everly was born last year, these realities hit even more deeply. I so longed to do right by her and to immerse myself in parenthood but felt the constant pull to need to be perfect in, not only, this role but in all of the roles that came before her. I thought I should be able to manage all of the to-do’s, goals, wants, needs, and dreams I had in addition to nurturing hers and still practicing some element of self-care.
Guess how well that worked out?
The reality was that not everything could be done in the timeline my shame told me it needed to. I could not keep working on growing my business while also seeing therapy patients while also being the primary caregiver to Everly while also supporting a partner who works in Emergency Medicine during the midst of a global pandemic while still making time to create and, oh, of course, suddenly setting up video calls with everyone and their 3rd cousin twice removed who wants to “catch up”.
There are days where I don’t even have the f*cks to give to wiping down the counters or changing out of my clothes before bed. And while, in theory, the things I “should” be able to do while she is napping or when I have some childcare help seem manageable, there is no such thing as being able to plan for everything in life or planning your day so rigid that there is no ability to be flexible or for things to take longer when needed.
Furthermore, I had made a choice to bring another human into this world which meant that I would be losing, well, not losing but giving away, significant quantities of my f*cks — time, money and energy — to Everly.
The need to address my narrative was imminent.
I had to stop focusing on all of the things my shame told me should be happening and get curious about why I clung so strongly to that belief. Was I afraid of losing my relevance? Did I worry about what it would mean about me if I was not earning the same amount of money as I was before? Did I fear that I would lose my creativity?
Honestly, it was a little bit of all of those things and much more.
I learned that urgency was a major thing that pushed me. I felt the need to not only do it all but to do it all right now. And I felt a sense of resentment of the role that being a mom can have -- Everly is programmed to feel safest with me and to whine for me. I am also her food source which means she quite literally dictates much of my schedule.
The thing I had to get comfortable sitting in is that, at the end of the day, when my shame is burnt out and I can hear my own voice a bit louder, I am grateful for every moment I spend with Everly. I love the days that I get to simply be with my family. And yes, I also have huge goals and aspirations for my professional life and I feel like I am only starting to make sense of the ways I can truly lean into my gifts and really contribute in a meaningful way in the world. AND, that does not mean I have to do and be it all right now in order to make sure all of those pieces of me stay alive and present. I do not need to chase this destination or outcome that my shame keeps telling me I need to. Instead, I can slow down and celebrate the small victories and learn to enjoy the process of truly living a life that has meaning, purpose, and connection.