On Triumph
I have not been feeling very triumphant lately. I've mostly been feeling tired. Okay, okay, tired and cranky. And disappointed in myself (and sometimes, disappointed in myself for feeling disappointed in myself, which is a really ridiculous amount of neurosis).
However, partly because of reading ruthette's posts about "Only" and "Stop Worrying About Who You Are, I am trying to take myself in hand.
Because the truth is, I expect that I'm neither failing at life half as much as I think, nor winning at life in any spectacular amount. What I am doing is--like the rest of the world--simply living life. I'm checking the hand of cards that I have been dealt and trying to play them as well as I can. And just like when I play Euchre (or, for that matter, most games), I have only the fuzziest logic about the best strategies. Sometimes I run a play that seems sure-fire, and I get trounced. Sometimes, I think I'm about to "lose the farm", and all of a sudden I find victory in my grasp. And sometimes, what looks like a certain win is a certain win, and what looks like certain loss is a certain loss.
I fall into the trap of looking at what other people do with their cards. And just as often, I fall into the trap of looking at all the things I would love to do, but simply cannot (because I lack the necessary resources, or because my resources don't stretch far enough). I write, but other people write more. I work out, but other people are much more fit. I volunteer at my local elementary school library, but there are other elementary school libraries that don't have any volunteers and I just want to save them all. I want to read to Krystal more, and play games with the boys more, and clean the house more, and read more, and write more...and then at the end of the day, I've filled all my minutes and I can't wedge any more in and I try to buy some more minutes and energy and skill from somewhere.
But I have to learn that I only have so much time, so much energy, so much skill, so much me. It is hard to be content with what I can do. But istead of asking myself whether I've run as hard as I wish I could or as hard as other people, I can ask, "Well, did you get up off the couch? Did you run a lap? Or two?" Then that's enough. Less comparing. Less worrying. Less contemplation of an alternate reality where I magically have twice the time and half the responsibility and three times the caffeine tolerance.
Sometimes, it's appropriate to be disappointed in myself. I make plenty of mistakes. But instead of holding what I'm doing up to what others seem to be doing, or comparing it to what I wish I could do, perhaps it's enough to just take a look at what I'm doing. And then, perhaps, I can chalk the fact that I'm doing something up as triumph.
However, partly because of reading ruthette's posts about "Only" and "Stop Worrying About Who You Are, I am trying to take myself in hand.
Because the truth is, I expect that I'm neither failing at life half as much as I think, nor winning at life in any spectacular amount. What I am doing is--like the rest of the world--simply living life. I'm checking the hand of cards that I have been dealt and trying to play them as well as I can. And just like when I play Euchre (or, for that matter, most games), I have only the fuzziest logic about the best strategies. Sometimes I run a play that seems sure-fire, and I get trounced. Sometimes, I think I'm about to "lose the farm", and all of a sudden I find victory in my grasp. And sometimes, what looks like a certain win is a certain win, and what looks like certain loss is a certain loss.
I fall into the trap of looking at what other people do with their cards. And just as often, I fall into the trap of looking at all the things I would love to do, but simply cannot (because I lack the necessary resources, or because my resources don't stretch far enough). I write, but other people write more. I work out, but other people are much more fit. I volunteer at my local elementary school library, but there are other elementary school libraries that don't have any volunteers and I just want to save them all. I want to read to Krystal more, and play games with the boys more, and clean the house more, and read more, and write more...and then at the end of the day, I've filled all my minutes and I can't wedge any more in and I try to buy some more minutes and energy and skill from somewhere.
But I have to learn that I only have so much time, so much energy, so much skill, so much me. It is hard to be content with what I can do. But istead of asking myself whether I've run as hard as I wish I could or as hard as other people, I can ask, "Well, did you get up off the couch? Did you run a lap? Or two?" Then that's enough. Less comparing. Less worrying. Less contemplation of an alternate reality where I magically have twice the time and half the responsibility and three times the caffeine tolerance.
Sometimes, it's appropriate to be disappointed in myself. I make plenty of mistakes. But instead of holding what I'm doing up to what others seem to be doing, or comparing it to what I wish I could do, perhaps it's enough to just take a look at what I'm doing. And then, perhaps, I can chalk the fact that I'm doing something up as triumph.