What’s weird to me about my parents is just how similar they are. I guess it’s not weird that two people with similar characteristics got married and started a family, but they’ve been divorced since I was five, so I got to know them independently of one another. My parents are both very focused and organized people. They make lists and plans and goals. And they’re both very into self-improvement. I’m sure you can find The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and dozens like it on both of their bookshelves. They make one year plans, which are part of their five year plans. My dad makes long lists of daily and weekly tasks. My mom even has five year plans for how she can support each of her children in their growth; she updates them every summer.
My parents never sat us down and made us plot out our lives. They were actually pretty hands off (by design and because they were busy) and let us figure things out for ourselves. But, it’s no coincidence that we ended up just like them, my sister and I especially. I grew up with the very distinct notion that if there was something about yourself that you didn’t like, then you should change it. How do you change it? Pull yourself up by the bootstraps, of course. It wasn’t at all the same as having my parents force me to do something. It was always self-motivated. I believed I could change, because I’d seen my parents do it over and over.
I thank my parents for empowering me. If I ever have kids, I only hope I can do the same for them.
But, when I was younger, self help sometimes ruled by life in an unhealthy way. I can see it in my journals. Lists and lists of goals. Every day a new plan to make myself perfect. I was going to get a 4.0. I was going to weigh 115 lbs. I was going to read every classic book. I was going to suddenly become outgoing. Every entry filled with frustration over my failure was followed quickly by a new plan.
It’s not just that I wanted to make myself better. I wanted to make myself perfect–to make myself someone else. I was going to stun everyone. I was going to make it look effortless. There’s this line in Marya Hornbacher’s Wasted that captures it perfectly:
Full of delusional certainty that one day soon I would walk back into the house, tall as a magazine model, cool and collected, a new woman, you’ve come a long way, baby, and then they would see. Then they’d know they’d had me all wrong, I would sweep into their perfect white living room and sit down on the couch, crossing my (magically long) legs and give them a bored stare. Then they’d be impressed . . . I fell for the great American dream, female version, hook, line, and sinker. I, as many young women do, honest-to-god believed that once I Just Lost a Few Pounds, somehow I would suddenly be a New You . . . I would wear cool quasi-intellectual glasses and a man’s oxford shirt in a sunny New York flat and sip coffee and say Mmmm and fold my paper neatly and He would come up behind me and look at me with an adoring gaze.
If I wanted to be someone else, then it follows that I must have hated who I was. It seems like too strong of a word now, but I think I said as much over and over in my journal. When my preoccupation with self-improvement reached its peak, I was more miserable than I’d ever been before in my life. It was no way to live. I wanted to change, but I mistakenly thought that what would make me happy was the very thing that had made me miserable. I thought, if I was perfect, then I would be happy. I only dug myself a deeper hole.
I turned a corner at some point and it wasn’t the result of an epiphany or some great new plan. There was no moment of clarity when I realized that achieving things never brought the kind of satisfaction I was looking for. It was more like I’d given up and that brought a lot of disappointment with it. Thankfully, I was distracted, working too much while trying to finish my degree. I planned to jump right back into the goals the minute I had time. My senior year of college was so busy that it flew by. When I emerged on the other side, a degree in my hand, I tried to go back to that old way of living. I made the goals, even. But, I didn’t have the heart for it anymore. The excitement that had always come with a new plan was mostly gone now. And, there was another surprising development: I was happy. Happier at least than I’d been before.
Things have continued on pretty undramatically from there. In the last several years, I’ve developed a much healthier attitude toward self-improvement. One so healthy that it’s often a surprise to me. I still want to be better, but not at the expense of my happiness. And I want to be a better me–not someone else entirely. I sometimes still flirt with my old preoccupation. I also worry about slipping back into old habits. But, I guess as a result of maturity or something, I’ve simply become much more realistic and much more content. I haven’t stopped doing things. In fact, I’ve accomplished many things I never imagined I would. In all those years I was so strict with myself, the real things I accomplished always seemed to pass without my noticing. All I could see was the unreasonably high expectation I missed and not the very decent place I landed.
Balance always feels so elusive, but I feel like I’ve reached a place that at least somewhat resembles it.
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You read my post from the other day so you know where I am on this.
I have to admit though, that I do sometimes catch myself thinking “if I was just a little skinnier/had her sense of style/could flawlessly manage my social and professional life/etc” and it’s like a mental slap.
I like that I’m aware of when i start to slip into that state of mind so I can actually say to myself; listen, I’ve been through this, just be a better YOU.
The awareness helps. :)
Great, great post!
“Wasted” sounds like a fascinating book.
I think you’ve managed to do what most people have a really difficult time doing – living in the moment while working towards your future.
I love this post! I remember writing this quote in my journal back in my HS years, “be the best version of yourself” — i took this to mean “be the best version of anyone ever” which kinda sounds like your old goals of perfection. I still think it’s a good thought, but they key word is “yourself.”
This post is a great one Ashely. I am motivated by happiness, espeically lately. Following my bliss if you will. I spent too much time in the past trying to make other people happy — if I do this, so and so will like me; if I get this grade maybe now I’ll be good enough. Then over time, I realized that I needed to makeself happy and do what was best for me, not for everyone else.
This is a really great post. I often feel the same way. I tend to wander around the Self-Help section every time I go to a book store, looking for something that will “change my life.” It’s hard to be content with yourself because sometimes contentment seems like laziness. I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that that’s not always the case.
I have had that plan to suddenly become outgoing so many times. But you’re so right: the goal is to be a better you, not someone else.
I love how each time I visit and see a new post, I develop a connection on some level. This post reminds me the same realization I reached. Stop trying to be what others think you should be, because ultimately it does nothing but bring unhappiness.
Just last night I was on the phone with my younger sister. She was all in a tizzy telling me about how she has her life all planned out for the next 5 years. Right now she’s working on a paralegal certificate and college. Over the next few semesters she hopes for an internship. At that point she stopped to tell me that I should find one too. I’ve been mulling over the idea for a while now and I’ll admit I’ve talked about it with her. But I’ve not seen what I’m looking for but she sort of pushed me. If there is anything I hate it is when people push me. She’s so happy with her life that she is pushing it on me. And she’s always done that. I’m happy where I am. If I choose to pursue an internship I will be doing it for my sake and not hers.
Little conversations make me realize the decision I came to over and over again. I’m glad they do because they make me a happier person. To sum it up, I understand where you are coming from.
I can really relate to this post because I was the same way when I was a kid and I took after my mom. I was constantly setting goals, mostly surrounding weight loss and grades, and I was constantly punishing myself if I didn’t achieve them.
I think that this HAS been a good thing and a bad thing for me. Good because I don’t think I would be where I am today without that kind of personality and bad because nobody’s perfect and by trying to make myself perfect I was also making myself miserable.
You’re so right when you say balance is key! I feel like I’ve *finally* achieved some sort of balance in my life and I now realize that I can’t be perfect, so I might as well do what makes me happy!
My mom also had TONS of self-help books laying around :-)
Are you sure you weren’t reading my journal? Because… um… mine all look like that.
Oh wait, I threw those away years ago.
I don’t think anyone in my family has ever looked at a self help book, and I certainly don’t get my “ok, here’s what I’m going to do” planningness from either of my parents. They’re both messy with plans. My dad doesn’t even make plans! He’s always at least 5 minutes late for everything! My mom? She’s the hastiest, angriest, most bitter person I’ve ever met. She hates plans, but when she makes them she does things as fast as she can whether it’s efficient or not.
Me, on the other hand? I’m always saying “this is what I’m going to do”. I make lists at work, in bed, at my desk, on my phone. I text my email more than I text other people to remind myself of things or to add to lists I have in one of a handful of notebooks or spreadsheets. And unlike my parents, I went to therapy for my issues, and I learned that I’ve been helping myself get over things since before I even knew it.
I’d think I I was adopted, except my siblings and I all look so much alike…