#thoughtroach

I am going through a phase. The phase is… complicated, as phases tend to be. To further complicate matters I am not going to tell you what it is. (PRIVATE) It’s not bad… I don’t think. It could be good, if I handle it correctly. It just… is. A phase. A shift. An adjustment. And how do I deal with phases... word vomit. 

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Sometimes when I am talking to people I ask them “what is your continuous improvement obstacle?” to say, what is the thing you always struggle with. It doesn’t have to be big. Usually it’s mental and it probably shifts and changes and adapts with you as life moves on.

If you asked me when I was 15 what my obstacle was I would have said ‘making friends’. (come to think of it, making friends and being the first to say hello is still a big obstacle for me. Maybe obstacles don’t change as much as I would like to believe. Maybe we just get better at adapting.)

If you asked me when I was 20, “what is your continuous improvement obstacle?” the answer would be ‘letting go’ and by that I mean, finding a reasonable balance between being responsible and taking risks (just eat the cake sort to speak). That one actually hasn’t changed much either*.

In my mid-twenties my life took an enormous left turn and my entire world shifted and everything I KNEW to be facts about living life tumbled out of my pockets like loose change and I was left sitting on my ass with a bruised ego and enormous amounts of scar tissue. Just great! My 25-ish age obstacle was spending too much time waiting for other people to recognize my potential. I needed people to feed my soul. I need somebody else to tell me that I was a good person, or making the right choices, or doing all the right things. I no longer trusted myself to decide these things. After all, my confidence was on the other side of the street and I was in no shape to do any kind of crossing. So – and coincidentally the beginning of all that is karma vs. life – I fled my known world, spent 18 hours flying in the direct opposite direction of my comfort zone and purposefully spent nearly a year by myself (half on purpose, half constricted by obstacle re: 15 years). By the time I came home I was completely independent and ready to take on the world, confidence in tow. 

Now, in my 30’s if you ask me what my continuous improvement obstacle is, I would love to tell you it is public speaking, but I think that is just a thing I don’t particularly enjoy.** However, in light of my new phase I realize I still want people to recognize my potential and to appreciate the things I do; maybe just on a lesser scale.

I found myself this morning, in the midst of a particularly enlightened moment, being incredibly proud of myself. I like to think I am a good person. I was thinking about my podcast list and thought ‘I think I have a pretty good taste in all the things’. I have an incredible arrangement of music on my phone and listen to a mix of songs. I read; autobiographies and fiction and non-fiction. I am studious and curious. I am, and do, many things that lead me to believe I am a smart, knowledgeable person (despite my inability to ever spell ‘knowledgeable’ correctly the first time). I am proud of who I am. I am happy with who I am. And up until that very second it had never occurred to me that this is anybody else’s business.

Then, a little thought-bug crept into my brain space. “I wonder if anybody else knows how great I am?”  

What the hell? I thought we were over this obstacle? What the heck is that noise? Where did you come from and why didn’t the trap at the door stop you pesky thought-roach*** from ruining my perfectly good thought.

The thought was there, it was too late. It isn’t that I want to toot my horn or stand on the rooftops and shout about how awesome I am. It’s something different. I think it is something that many of us are faced with in our daily lives. We are different people in different situations. So are we actually being real, for real though? Is that even a thing? My boss calls it ‘putting on the armor’. We are all different people in different situations and that doesn’t make us any less of who we truly are; it’s just a... necessary ... thing (word vomit fail.)

For me, at work professionalism and privacy are very important pieces of my job. In my position, I don’t get to make friends with my coworkers. When I tell them about my day I tell them that my new puppy chewed up my husband’s sandals or that I am trying to reduce my caffeine intake so beware (haha half kidding… but really… be careful.) These are the types of things my coworkers know about me.

I am also not very close with my family. Don’t get me wrong my family is wonderful and I am close with them in that I call them mostly once a week and see them every holiday. But we are a very large family and I was significantly distant from them during many formidable years. And so, our relationships are relatively surface level. We celebrate in each other’s successes and we comfort/support each other during difficult times but ultimately, if you ask them anything about ME and my likes/dislikes, I am not confident they would know what to say and/or if it would be correct.

My husband is my biggest fan and my support system. Does he know that I blog, sure! Does he know I haven’t written a blog-post in over a year or that I have hardly written at all or even what I write about, probably not. Does he know that I use too many words and feelings, and he gets lost, when I am trying to talk to him about something important? Absolutely! (his opinion, not mine) Does he know that I spent hours sorting through and compartmentalizing my thoughts and feelings before I brought only the valid and important ones forward? Probably not. Does he know that my playlist contains everything from System of a Down to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and everything in between; including a great little fiddle number from Lindsey Stirling (that I highly recommend); probably not (actually he does… we’ve taken road trips). Does he know I even know what a podcast is or that I am a huge fan of both “S-Town” and “Chris Hardwick” or that I have a downloaded audible book called “The sex Lives of Cannibals” which makes me laugh and a book called “Every Note Played” by Lisa Genova that I know will make me cry; AND that I downloaded that one for the purpose of crying entirely on purpose; probably not.

And so, for a moment I allowed myself to be sad. The people I spend all my time with don’t know much about me at all. I worried that they don’t, actually, know how awesome I am at all.

But here’s the kicker.

Do I really need them to?  

Did I do these things because I think that people will like me because of them?

Do I listen to “The School of Greatness” by Lewis Howes (ahem.. do it) because I think people will think I am cool when I do?  

Do I have Carly Rae Jepsen on my playlist because it makes me popular and cool (I mean, yes … but actually, absolutely not).

Do I LOVE “The Night Circus” because I think it will come up in conversation and I want to know what I am talking about.

No.

I do these things because they make up all the little pieces of who I am. They are my fiber and foundation and they feed my soul. These are the things I do, the things that build who I am. These things (which as I write these out, am realizing are all word and art related things which is very much in the fiber of who I am… too many words or not.) teach me and allow me to be the - probably awesome - person that people do get to meet.

All of these things, the music, the reading, the podcasts, feed my creativity fire and inspire my ability to be the “great ideas fairy” I am known as at work.

The exposure to a thousand different things teach me to be open to liking different things and the exposure teaches me to understand others in a way that allows them to be who they are without fear of judgement. And to look at thoughts and actions from different perspectives.

The information I digest helps me, in turn, provide information to others and teaches me to do my research before forming an opinion.

There are so many ways people would describe me: (I know because I did a study once).

-          Kind

-          Thoughtful

-          Patient

-          Supportive

-          Fun

-          Creative

I think these are wonderful ways to be described. So, yes I think people DO know how awesome I am. (toot toot!)

Does it actually matter to me that people know I am kind because I listed to Kristen Bell talk about Happiness vs. Suffering in a podcast? Or that I am an avid believer in Karma so even when I am seething on the inside and have numerous characteristically horrible things I want to shout, I turn on Florence and the Machine OR Rage Against the Machine (depending on which level of angry I am), take a deep breath and fall on the lessons of Thumper to “not say anything at all” because what I was going to say was decidedly NOT nice.

Or is it actually important to me that people know I write (ahem…vomit words  with no particular plan) when I am trying to sort out my thoughts and at the end of my blog post come to realize that my continuous improvement obstacle is, in all actuality, no longer an obstacle at all.

Nope. 

*Fun fact: I married the most responsible, financially conservative human on the planet. Which, inadvertently, seems to have cured me of my obstacle to balance frivolity and responsibility as I am now the person who says “Oh come on! Let’s do the expensive thing!” and it is probably because he does the worrying for me. Otherwise, it would still be an obstacle.

** I am not entirely sure this is true. The ACT of standing in front of a group of people and speaking is horrifying and sweat inducing. The opportunity to use public speaking as a creative outlet, to speak what is written in my own voice, is pretty damn inspiring.