Underestimating ...Ourselves
Why is it So Hard to See Our Own Accomplishments?
There is a period during my nightly sleep when I have the most morbid, angst-laced and downright wicked thoughts—thoughts that are so unpleasant that I would never share them with the rest of the world. Well, almost never.
It is that hour, seems to be between 3 a.m. and 4 a.m., that I say things to myself, in my head, that are just dark. I mean, absolutely everything comes to the surface. Whether it is true, or not, probably doesn’t matter. They are condemning, haunting judgments. It’s my own little masochistic torture fest.
“You weren’t with your mother when she died.”
“You never said goodbye to her.”
“You waste time. You have squandered so much time, and you have nothing to show for it.”
“You’ve never been in love. Truly, happily in love.”
“You ARE nothing.”
“You’ll never get out of debt.”
“You were mean to so and so. And now she’s dead.”
“You’re so difficult. You’re unemployable.”
“You need to burn all of your unfinished manuscripts—and journals. Now. Before you die.”
The thoughts sound like me, meaning my voice is hammering me with these remarks. And I wake up. I ring my hands. I might be sweating, so I have to change into a dry night gown. I go down the hall and make my way to the kitchen—letting the chilly air shock me ever so slightly. I have a sip of water, or Ginger Ale from the fridge. The clock says 3:16. The last demonic thought I had still rings in my ear, but it is fading.
And, yes, there is a former career, but it’s just been too long now for me to be able to rest, even ever so briefly, on the laurels of my accomplishments back when.
“You’ll die all alone, just like your mother. In fact, you are your mother.”
All right. Stop.
Let’s shake these words off; and, let’s flick them away. Let’s discard these thoughts right here and now with the new morning. Let’s come back to the real reality, not the self-loathing, Freudian fright-fest reality of the wee hours, but to the day. And, so the remarks and damning words fade from my mind. Poof.
I almost forget them.
I live in a nice house with my husband, who loves me and relies on me as I do him. Our three grown children are scattered around the eastern United States while our youngest is still in college and four hours away by car. My husband loves his work. I am, as you might have guessed, a freelance writer. I don’t love my job because there isn’t one to love. I don’t have full time work, which I prefer.
I am the woman who is chief caretaker of the home, and also a part-time worker. We live in a new town, so I often feel a little lost. And, yet, I cherish my privacy and I value being able to pick and choose what I do. And, yes, there is unfinished work. And, yes, there is a former career, but it’s just been too long now for me to be able to rest, even ever so briefly, on the laurels of my accomplishments back when.
And, so it might seem that my days feed almost naturally into my nights, in which I unhurl all kinds of unkind judgements onto myself. But, what is getting lost in the cycle of unnecessary self-criticsm, is all that is achieved.
I might add that I am almost certain women experience this phenomenon a tad more than men do. But that is not my point. That is for another essay, as this one is for men and women alike, about seeing clearly and fairly the fact that all of us probably do more than we give ourselves credit for.
When I moved to my new home town, I became a commissioner on city’s the Human Rights and Relations Commission. In becoming a commissioner, I also ended up joining a task force that gives out $100,000 a year to non-profits in our community that serve under-resourced and vulnerable populations. The five of us on the task force decided that seniors and youth would get attention and funding this year. We learned a lot about how many at-risk youths and seniors there are in our city. The numbers are staggering; the cost of living is impossible; and the outlook is unsettling. We hope to help in our own way.
I notice myself failing to acknowledge all that I am doing, and only focus on all that remains to be done.
And then, as commissioner, I was able to help at the last minute with a panel discussion in which I served as moderator and helped “keep it all together”, as the event chair said to me afterwards. It was televised and now lives forever on You Tube, Facebook and our town cable channel.
Meanwhile, I am working on a report for my commission that has to do with answering questions about how our community helps seniors during major weather events—the report will be delivered to the city’s environment commission, which asked us to answer a few far-reaching climate change questions. The thinking is that seniors are either at risk, or just very isolated, in bad weather events, and we are exploring how we help them. Indeed, my wee-hour tirades have only just started to feed on the ‘what will your life look like when you’re 75?’ scenarios.
But put this all together, and what happens is I notice myself failing to acknowledge all that I am doing, and only focus on all that remains to be done.
In addition to a pretty cool careers in DC, I became a consultant and journalist. I’ve published reams of work over 15 years—alas, not a book (yet). I’ve traveled all over for my work. And, in all of that time, I managed to write a screenplay, and win a contest, and go to France, and meet a producer who liked it. And so on and so forth.
But forget it. I am still a sloth in my own eyes. Why is it, pray, that I focus on all of the things that are unfinished, and not the things that are finished? Well, the answer lies in, perhaps, longing for that feeling, albeit a short-lived feeling, of having really just accomplished something, or having met a deadline. It is indeed a good feeling. Almost as good as filing your taxes, which I also do every year (with our brilliant accountant, she), and that is no small task in this house.
But let’s not under estimate what we do day in and day out. Whether you are the breadwinner, or the caretaker, those hats alone consume your time and you are producing results. The “creative” achievement comes in fits and starts. And, existing in a lull and sometimes spinning arounds in circles is just sometimes part of the challenge. Just keep standing, even with your eyes closed. And, know that the voices fade and the ominous thoughts do disappear, because they are nothing more than your creative mind waking up and making noise.