If you’re like me, you’ve been a Type-A over-achiever since
birth. Around the age of 3-4, you
astounded your parents with the fact that you’d taught yourself to read. At age 7, you blew away your first
standardized test. At age 11, you were
voted by your classmates as “Most likely to attend MIT and discover a cure for
cancer.” At age 12-13 you won the
spelling bee - twice…and the science fair and the fiction contest and made the
honor roll sixteen times.
You are the person who people have looked at your whole life
and told you that you are going to BE AMAZING one day.
You are also the person who sobbed uncontrollably when you
didn’t make National Merit Scholar and years later “choked” while taking the
LSAT and have never told another living soul your score because you ‘only
scored in the top 5%,’ a fact which you find hideously embarrassing.
You consider yourself a productive, capable and efficient
person and constantly berate yourself for all the things YOU HAVEN’T DONE each
day/month/year/decade. You feel guilty
that you’re not living up to your 'potential' while wasting opportunities that
others will never have.
2012 was the year that I sat down, thought about all that
potential, and determined, “Fuck that. The only potential I want to worry about is the
one for my own happiness and the people I love.”
Sometime last fall, it was a Saturday, and I had a list
sitting before me of all the things I needed to accomplish that day.
I didn't do it. Instead I spent the day doing nothing…except as it turns
out, I didn’t do nothing. (Back off, grammar nazis.) I spent the
day meditating and looking at my stumbling blocks in my life. At the end of the day I’d scrawled out three
pages of notes. What did I learn? Here are two items.
Well, for starters, I’ve had anywhere from 10-15 extra
pounds hanging on my body this year that I couldn’t seem to get rid of. I sat down with my paper and a comfy pillow
and pondered. I knew it wasn’t about
food or hunger or anything like that. It
was something psychological, but what?
Turns out, when I really thought about it, for the last few
years a lot of people have commented on “how skinny” I am. While it’s
considered rude to say something to an overweight person about their size, thin
people are fair game, and even worse, people couch their comments under a
bullshit façade of concern. “Are you eating enough?” “Did you eat today?” “You never eat lunch. Do you have an eating disorder?” What made it ten times worse is that I have
always been slightly obsessive about my weight.
My thin weight was perfectly healthy, but I’d kinda
developed a complex about it, and I realized that I was hanging on to this
extra ten pounds in an effort to a) stave off the comments and b) convince myself
that I could tolerate being a heavier weight.
That day I told myself that it was ok to be skinny. Since then, without any effort on my part, the
extra weight is fading away, and I’m SO much happier when I put my pants on in
the morning. When your pants fit, it’s
the beginning of a good day.
Another fun thing I got from that day? I always seemed to have ‘just enough’ money
regardless of whether I was making $20k or six figures a year. I asked myself WHY that was and came up with
the theory that I was scared of being without financial worry. I know, it’s seems counter-intuitive,
right? I was afraid that if I paid off
my loans and saved up a fair amount of money, I would take on bigger financial
obligations like buying a house or having a kid – and I was worried that those
things would limit me in some way. Or
worse yet, I’d become one of those douchebags with a lot of nice things and
zero personality. Also, my parents have heavily manipulated, bartered, and
coerced each other into doing things throughout the years with – you guessed it
– money. (FUN FACT! My mother, who never wanted children,
consented to my creation in exchange for a top of the line
washer and dryer. To this day, I LOVE
doing laundry.) Back to the story, with
that one I realized that money wasn’t actually the issue. It was what I thought money would create, what money symbolized to me. I’ve
since decided that it’s possible to be financially stable and not be a complete
asshole.
At the end of that day, I’d crossed nothing off my to-do
list. From a tangible productivity
assessment standpoint, I was sitting on a big fat zero, but some of the
realizations I had the day I did nothing more than sit on my butt have improved my
daily well-being. And bonus, because I was navel-gazing rather than running errands that day, I also had the time to meet a good friend for lunch.
The point I’m trying to make here (probably poorly), is that there’s so many
little things out there that we can do for ourselves and others each day that
have no discernible level of achievement, but which ultimately have a much bigger
impact on our lives than being named a National Merit Scholar. (That's right. Suck it all you National Merit Scholars....just kidding.) And those little things ARE our real achievements. And that’s what I try to remember every time
I ask myself, “Is this really all the more I’ve done with my life? Is this where I’m supposed “to be” at this
age?!?!” Then I go play with my dog and forget all about it.







