Lessons I Need To Learn

And maybe you do too.

Upon my arrival at Medium, I plunged into an ocean of self-help articles with a swell that floated me towards virtue. It was delightful at first, I had finally found a place where I could grow from the wisdom of others. Yet, over time I began to feel broken, incomplete. The once subtle swell became treacherous waters and I struggled to stay afloat.

Articles on success, growth, and morning routines rose in large waves and pummeled me down. I was overwhelmed with stories of accomplishments and accolades; they no longer inspired me, but filled me with self-doubt. My perspective of self and reality became disfigured.

How has this person figured everything out? By comparison, I am like a tattered hose with many holes. I patch one hole up and find water leaking elsewhere, or worse, find that the water has created a new rupture.

I believed that perfection was attainable, I simply was not worthy of it.

You see, many of the articles I read carried an assumption that was not only dishonest but unrealistic for my journey of growth. That assumption being:

The writer has their life together and knows what is best.

If the truth was located at the heart of the Milky Way, this assumption would be found somewhere in our neighbouring galaxy, the Andromeda. One statement I found closer to home is this:

Humans are imperfect.

Don’t get me wrong, it is important to teach others of our triumph over errors. Humans have done this for centuries with myths and legends floating between the ears of generations in hopes that the young rectify the mistakes of their forefathers.

And humans continue to do this today. Writers will teach their readers of their mistakes and shine light on the choices that led them back to success and happiness.

But, as I read these stories on Medium, I found them disingenuous. It felt as if some writers alluded that their journey was complete, that they had overcome all the adversity and affliction life had to offer and now basked in the promised land of enlightenment.

Yet, one day, as I was caught in a rip of self-improvement (which would eventually morph into self-hate) I found an article that painted a realistic picture of life, one riddled with cracks and blemishes. The writer, Itxy Lopez, threw me a life-jacket. She wrote of her flaws and the lessons she would follow to continue her journey of growth. I felt reassured, as if I was finally on the same voyage as someone else. We hadn’t figured everything out yet, but we sure as hell were trying.

After finishing that article an important lesson became apparent to me. I must not write solely of the demons I have slain and feats I have accomplished, but I must explore my weaknesses, expose my Achilles heel. For me, the former focus feeds only the ego.

If I write only of my accomplishments, my perspective of self becomes skewed. I was once a complete human: one with insecurities, struggles, and suffering. But now I embody the idea of perfection. And when an idea becomes identity, I becomes volatile to an environment of evidence that suggests otherwise.

That is not to say that I should be ashamed of my pride and stripped of my accolades. Rather, I do not indulge in the pleasures of narcissism. I am aware of, and embrace all, the nooks and crannies of self, regardless of how damp or dark they may be.

So, here I will take off my shoes, roll up my jeans, and expose my Achilles heel. I will write of my flaws and the lessons I can learn to continue my voyage of growth. And perhaps you will aboard this voyage with me.

I am a perfectionist: I strive for sublimity and nothing less. Yet, this mentality is toxic. When I invariably fall short of my unachievable expectations I despise, criticise, and chastise myself.

Hell, this mentality lingers when I perform tasks of a relaxing nature, like yoga. I become frustrated if I cannot touch my toes with the same ease of yesterday or disheartened when the muscles in my left quadriceps do not have the same spring as those of the right. That is an imbalanced body, not a perfect one.

Sure, at times perfectionism has allowed me to excel in areas I dedicate my time to. But for every ‘help’ that arises, hinderance follows in numbers. How can I start to write if I expect the words that leak from my fingertips to be exalting? How can I try anything new if I do not relish in my initial mediocrity?

I must confront the voice that berates me for not being enough. I must look past the damaging words it hurls at me and find love for myself. To accept my ordinary nature. To know that I am enough.

Today’s Western world is saturated with hedonism. Within my reach is a bounty of devices that will distract me from my pains and numb me with their pleasures.

To add to that, at every turn I am fed with spoonfuls of positivity: tips on self-care, quotes on a happy mindset, articles on success and fortune. With pleasure forced down my throat, I’ve become inept in experiencing my own suffering.

The strain of creating is alleviated by the procrastination of social media. The stress of university is followed by the gorging of treats. The sorrow of failure is numbed by the hedonism of video-games. Suffering must be in tandem with pleasure, not experienced on its own.

I must learn to openly experience my suffering. It is inevitable, a core part of being human. If I spend my time avoiding suffering, I end up avoiding life itself.

On top of this, if I cannot handle my own suffering, how can I expect to handle the suffering of those I love? Too frequently do I find myself forcing solutions, cracking jokes, or distracting the mind when a friend comes to me with their pain. In the worst cases (and I am disappointed to admit this) I will dissociate from those that suffer perpetually.

At times these reactions are helpful — there is rarely an absolute in life. But at times inaction is necessary. At times I simply need to sit in suffering. I shouldn’t force myself or others back into the spectrum of happiness or joy. All I need to do is listen to them, validate them, support them, and experience their pain. At times knowing that you aren’t suffering alone is enough to begin healing.

I think of my death often. Before I fall asleep the idea of not waking tomorrow drifts through my mind. When I enter my car, I acknowledge that today could be the day I am in a fatal car accident. I’m not an insomniac nor am I an agoraphobic. I just reflect on my mortality. Unfortunately, these reflections lead to worries of time.

How do I best use my time if I am to die tomorrow?

‘Grab life by the balls,’ so they say. But such a life is taxing. Some days I don’t want to grab life by the balls. Some days I want to plod myself on the couch, turn on my favourite TV show, put my hand down my pants and grab my own balls.

I must learn that a fulfilled life is not necessarily a productive life. A fulfilled life is whatever the hell I make it be. If it means today I must rest, then I will lounge by the pool and read my book. If it means tomorrow I must work, then I will write and I will study. Neither day is more valuable than the other.

The final lesson. Though, this is a lesson I still need to learn. Somewhere in my life, I associated worth with validation. On the surface this rings true; those that succeed will be rewarded and recognised for their work. However, the message became entangled and snarled. Worth and validation were no longer two separate entities. I could no longer be an accomplished person, a human of worth, unless I was validated for being so.

Perhaps you fail to see the issue in this. It’s natural and helpful to desire validation. Yes… but no. Validation can be necessary, especially to continue the trajectory of excellence or growth. But to place my worth in external validation is volatile. To think that I am enough only when someone else deems it to be true is toxic. Why? Because it is not a permanent state but a snapshot moment.

The sole constant in my life is me. I will be with myself from the beginning to the end. Everything else, my family and friends, my partners and pets, my colleagues and companions will come and go. The external world is an unpredictable and unforgivable place; it is an unstable force that cannot be tamed. Placing my self-worth in it is like docking a boat with no anchor. Eventually, a storm will brew and my vessel will be destroyed.

But, when the vines of validation grow from within and wrap around my being, self-worth becomes a permanent state. I am assured in myself. I know that in this moment, and every moment that follows, I am enough. I do not need to prove that to anyone but myself.

This is by far the most difficult lesson I must learn.

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