When the Sunday Scaries Won’t Go Away
On self-doubt, staying the course that feels right (and changing courses when it doesn’t), and realizing that the road to a better life is not a linear one.
“Every man has two lives, and his second begins when he realizes he has just one.” ~ Confucius
It has been way too long since I’ve posted — almost a month. I’ve had a very long dry spell. Self-doubt will do that to you. So I decided to just sit down and start. I hope you can find something here in my ramblings.
As I sit down to write this, I’m not certain how this post is going to unfold. But that’s the beautiful thing about writing and it’s what keeps drawing me in. It starts with an idea, or a jumble of ideas, that are knocking around in my head and trying to get out so they can make some sense of themselves. And so I just have to knuckle down and put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and sort it all out.
Self-doubt is crippling. I thought I was done with it, but apparently, at the age of forty-eight going on forty-nine, it’s not done with me. But if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that I can’t just ignore uncomfortable feelings — I need to figure out where they’re coming from.
When I started to write about my cancer scare and relationship breakdown as catalysts for change, I felt a sense of urgency and the strong pull to find meaning in my life. I was energized and inspired. I felt hopeful, even through feelings of sadness, grief and fear. I ultimately felt optimism about the future and gratitude for having come through my experiences with a new awareness about myself and where I wanted my life to go. I felt that I could make something out of the suffering.
For some context, while I was on sick leave, I decided I didn’t want to go back to my job full time. I’ve been a Montessori teacher for the past ten years (plus three as an assistant), and have loved it, but I felt that it had run its course. So much about me had changed and it was time to go in a new direction. I wanted to spend my time writing however I could make that happen.
But once all the highs from my epiphany subsided, and the impact of changes I’ve made slowed down, it seemed like my progress came to a halt. I’ve made positive internal changes with respect to protecting personal boundaries, shifting my priorities, and putting the needs of my family and myself before anything else. Speaking up and advocating for myself have been hugely impactful shifts for me. I’m learning to tune in to my own intuition and I’m allowing myself to be more creative. There’s been so much positive change, but there is one change I haven’t been able to make — I’m back at my job full time despite my desire to do something different and to make more space for my writing. Something happened to me when I began to wake up to the reality of my life, and my frustration grew when I couldn’t see a path leading from where I was to the place I wanted to be.
I’ve started to feel that the internal shifts I’ve made haven't been enough. Maybe they will never be enough. Maybe I’m a fraud for announcing to anyone who would listen that I was going to change my life. It made me wonder: Has it all been for nothing? If I can’t take all the pain and discomfort and realizations and turn them toward forging a new path for myself, what was it all for? And so that niggling question persisted.
The quote by Pope John Paul II, “Don’t waste your suffering” keeps coming to mind. How can I make use of the suffering that has led to all these realizations — that I want to live a rich life, which means putting my health, my family, and my creativity front and centre? I can’t help feeling that I’m letting myself down.
But maybe, just maybe, I can’t expect the progress to be linear.
When I’m thinking clearly, I can see that I’ve made some other significant changes, however small they may seem on the outside. I started a Substack on which I’ve been actively posting essays a few times a month (except during this recent dry spell). I’ve kept the promise to myself to write every day (again, recent slump excluded). I have participated in some great online writing courses and will soon be taking another one with Beth Kempton. I have written and submitted a personal essay to my first ever writing contest. I’ve had people tell me how my essays have impacted them, even if only in a small way, and that has been the most encouraging part of it all. I’ve learned so much about my writing process, and about myself, through all of this. And most importantly, I’m proving to myself that I can keep the promises I make, and that is worth all the gold in the world. All of that moves me, however slowly, toward my goals.
Last week, after a family birthday celebration at The Mandarin restaurant, I got a fortune cookie that read “Be patient.” I threw the tiny paper back onto the table. I wanted none of that. Haven’t I been patient long enough?
I’m learning that I need to have faith. That’s a better way to think about the pace at which I’m going. Patience suggests a certain passivity, but I feel that I should be anything but passive. The difference is more in my state of mind, than in the action — it’s a reframing. Faith and patience may not look so different from the outside, but the inner workings aren’t the same. Faith is a reason to keep going. It’s a kind of knowing, but without any evidence, without guarantees. Patience is polite and meek. Patience has its place and its time, but this is not it.
I can’t tie my self worth to external results — that is a recipe for disaster. So for now, I’ll need to muster up the courage to have faith that my determination, consistency, and follow-through on the actions I’ve chosen will get me to where I want to go. I need to have faith that all this will move me forward in the right direction, even if I can’t yet see where this path is leading me.
When I sit down to write, I don’t know what thoughts will unfold or which words will come out until I’m right in the thick of it. And so it is with life. I can’t always see what’s coming up around the next bend or behind the trees ahead on this path. But I always seem to find my way. When I look back on the things I have accomplished once I put my mind to them, I know that this is true.
So I’ll have to have faith in this journey that I’m on — not blind faith, and not merely hope that it will all work out, but just enough faith to keep me alert for signs that will point the way. I may need to stay the course, but I’m also ready to take a different path when it emerges. And yes — I might even need a little patience after all.
Thank you as always for reading. It means so much to me that you lend me your ear (or rather, your eyes).
“And most importantly, I’m proving to myself that I can keep the promises I make, and that is worth all the gold in the world. All of that moves me, however slowly, toward my goals.”
Yes this! It may not look like progress but it is, and we owe it to ourselves to honor these small commitments to ourselves.