Even when we say we love something, why does it feel so hard to show up? We imagine our idealized, perfect selves magically and effortlessly completing every task. We envision ourselves going through every exercise, keeping a perfect journal, recording and analyzing ourselves with positive detachment, and knowing that every step of this process is making us better, stronger, faster, and more expressive. We do the transcriptions, listen to the music, and go out to hangs, feeling a connection to our purpose and the thing we want to do. But sometimes, from the couch, that journey feels long and frustrating. It’s hard to give up the safety and comfort of not sucking in public, not saying the wrong thing, and not being good enough.
And why do we care about being good enough when all of this used to just be fun? Did someone tell you along the way that you didn’t make the cut? Did you ever have a person in your life who would give you all of the criticisms but none of the answers or guidance? Are you still battling with that person, or have you become that person?
I’ve had that experience. Being yelled at in the middle of a church service for slowing down or doing something my musical director found not to be up to snuff. All explained as the weight of someone’s soul in the balance of the way I played the drums during this worship service, even though I’d only been playing for two years. He is not the only voice I hear. I still hear my mother’s voice, expressing dismay over my shortcomings. (Undiagnosed ADHD) Her voice still echoes when I confront yet another way I do not measure up to expectations. (My mom is an amazing person who has been incredibly supportive and has grown right along with me.) I reliably had no answers to give, so I became a master at hiding in plain sight, being constantly vigilant. I did what I needed to do in the ways I could control, and in the ways I was deficient, I would hide.
I’ve grown a little. When I want to practice but feel like a stone, I remind myself that there’s no one there to hide from. So why am I still afraid?
Trauma is an overused word to some. I like to think of it more generally as psychological injury: patterns, environments, and situations that cause us to adapt in maladaptive ways. Our brains love shortcuts and stability; anything can seem logical when you’re scared. So I’m not concerned that it’s not logical that I feel like it’s hard for me to do the things that I want.
But I still feel jealous when that friction doesn’t exist for someone else. To some people, there is only disappointment because failure doesn’t exist. Every experience is a brick laid on the road to progress. Things might not always be cheery, but somewhere inside, there is a deep knowing that the disappointment will pass, that the experience will temper them. So they process it and move on to the next one, equipped with another experience.
If we know those experiences ultimately make us better and stronger, why can’t we take active steps to seek them out? Why do we put off practicing the things we know we WANT to practice? In our minds, we’re already not good enough. Are we afraid that our inadequacy will be confirmed by others? Would that make our subjective feelings objective? Why are we afraid of being right? Are we afraid of proving the people who wounded us (or our caricatures of those people) right?
I don’t think we want to be good enough. I think we want to be free. We all crave flow. We want to be free from the binary, to just be ourselves, to express ourselves however we feel in the moment without judgment. We want to be children at play, immersed in imagination, propelled by possibility, not paralyzed by it.
You don’t need to be fixed. You don’t need to “get out of your own way.” I hate that cliché. You ARE the way. You don’t have to challenge every decision. You don’t have to qualify every desire. You can do enriching, uplifting, interesting, and creative things because you WANT to. You GET to. That is your birthright as a human. You won the lottery.
This is self-love, or at least the foundation of it. However, sometimes hearing that you don't have to earn the right to exist sounds hollow when we still believe that practicing drums is a part of our self-worth subscription plan. You aren’t less human because you didn’t get the gig.
Practicing Self-Compassion: The First Step to Being Your Biggest Supporter
One of the most effective ways to become your biggest supporter is to practice self-compassion. Here are three steps, inspired by “The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion” by Dr. Christopher Germer, to help you get started:
Recognize Your Struggles Without Judgment:
Practice Self-Kindness:
Remember Your Common Humanity:
Consider this post a reminder from someone who puts so much pressure on himself that he didn’t post for three months because of self-imposed pressure. I didn’t write, even though I love writing. I’m still afraid of being called out, of being discovered as a fraud. Those feelings don’t go away overnight, but if I can feel this way and still make something, still try to build something, still move forward, so can you.
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