Look Me In the Eye, Then Tell Me I'm Satisfied
Is it personality? Is it time? Is it the ever-popular endogenous chemicals, forever sullying my synapses like marinara on a white silk blouse?
Is it my friends? Is it my coworkers? Is it everything but me, or just me?
Why am I this unhappy with my achievements?
It has been an eventful year.
I have earned an associate's degree. In the oh-so useful field of Liberal Arts, no less. C'mon, give me a Norton Anthology. I'll interpret the shit out of that bitch.
I have gone down three jeans sizes. While I can now look in the three-way mirror at The Gap and coo, "MMM-HMMMN, girlfriend, you look FINE!", I have lost any vestige of an ass. Baby don't got back. Baby basically perches on her coccyx like a Weeble.
Is it my friends? Is it my coworkers? Is it everything but me, or just me?
Why am I this unhappy with my achievements?
It has been an eventful year.
I have earned an associate's degree. In the oh-so useful field of Liberal Arts, no less. C'mon, give me a Norton Anthology. I'll interpret the shit out of that bitch.
I have gone down three jeans sizes. While I can now look in the three-way mirror at The Gap and coo, "MMM-HMMMN, girlfriend, you look FINE!", I have lost any vestige of an ass. Baby don't got back. Baby basically perches on her coccyx like a Weeble.
I have learned how to...
And a lot of the time, it feels like nothing.
I'm in the same position at work. I have gone from living in a messy Cape Cod to living in a stark white rental box (and hoping said Cape Cod just spontaneously implodes one day, because it is sure as shit not going to be purchased by any sane, credit-worthy individuals). I haven't been promoted, published, showered with love/Valrhona Le Lacte bars or party to a life-altering epiphany. I haven't been content, more or less ever.
When will it be enough? When will I be able to sit back, relax and say, "Yep... I'm fucking proud of you, self. Go grab another diet soda. You've earned it"?
It's the weight loss conundrum : the prospect of losing 50/75/100 pounds is so daunting, so impossible that it seems hardly worth starting a diet. And yet all weight is lost ounces at a time... day after boring, frustrating, rice cake-laden day.
I'm surrounded on all sides by high achievers. I work in a sector which is damned near synonymous with high achievement (well, and trips to Aspen / undermining all that which is right and decent in the world). Pounds and pounds of achievement, industrial-sized pallets of it. How can I be happy with a few ounces of forward momentum? For each credit I earn, there's an office wall upholstered in Ivy League diplomas. For each flattering pair of smaller-size khakis, there's another which make me feel like a dress-casual sausage. There are awards and accolades, achievements and acclaim. Works of art. Summers spent abroad. Grabbing life by the cojones and giving a hearty squeeze.
I'm trying, I really am. And yet there's that oddly familiar voice in the back of my head, the one hissing, "There is no try, there is only do." And I become angry enough to curse, spit, to do awful things to a certain pointy-eared Muppet guru. Because at this point, I haven't done much. And incessant trying is enough to make anyone feel like a Paul Westerberg antihero... desperate, demoralized, depressed and so, so unsatisfied.
- Solder.
- Code my own style sheets.
- Transport four bags of groceries and a squirmy toddler across several city blocks and up several flights of stairs.
- Get divorced sans legal counsel. I've got eight syllables for you: independent source of income. I've also got 81 more: odds are your spouse is in a place of existential confusion as well as somewhat lazy; just draft up all the paperwork yourself and hand it over with a brusque, "This agreement is inherently fair and in no way the legal equivalent of nonconsensual anal intercourse, so fucking sign it already."
- Be naked in front of a man without immediately trying to cover myself with a sheet, a quilt, a cat or a nearby bookcase.
- Run for one mile without staggering to the side of the road and vomiting in a concrete planter.
- Etc., ad infinitum, ergo sum.
And a lot of the time, it feels like nothing.
I'm in the same position at work. I have gone from living in a messy Cape Cod to living in a stark white rental box (and hoping said Cape Cod just spontaneously implodes one day, because it is sure as shit not going to be purchased by any sane, credit-worthy individuals). I haven't been promoted, published, showered with love/Valrhona Le Lacte bars or party to a life-altering epiphany. I haven't been content, more or less ever.
When will it be enough? When will I be able to sit back, relax and say, "Yep... I'm fucking proud of you, self. Go grab another diet soda. You've earned it"?
It's the weight loss conundrum : the prospect of losing 50/75/100 pounds is so daunting, so impossible that it seems hardly worth starting a diet. And yet all weight is lost ounces at a time... day after boring, frustrating, rice cake-laden day.
I'm surrounded on all sides by high achievers. I work in a sector which is damned near synonymous with high achievement (well, and trips to Aspen / undermining all that which is right and decent in the world). Pounds and pounds of achievement, industrial-sized pallets of it. How can I be happy with a few ounces of forward momentum? For each credit I earn, there's an office wall upholstered in Ivy League diplomas. For each flattering pair of smaller-size khakis, there's another which make me feel like a dress-casual sausage. There are awards and accolades, achievements and acclaim. Works of art. Summers spent abroad. Grabbing life by the cojones and giving a hearty squeeze.
I'm trying, I really am. And yet there's that oddly familiar voice in the back of my head, the one hissing, "There is no try, there is only do." And I become angry enough to curse, spit, to do awful things to a certain pointy-eared Muppet guru. Because at this point, I haven't done much. And incessant trying is enough to make anyone feel like a Paul Westerberg antihero... desperate, demoralized, depressed and so, so unsatisfied.
posted by thumbscre.ws at
2/22/2007
13 Comments:
I'm a new reader, so I don't know your back story, but wow! What an interesting way of expressing the duality of contentment vs the dissatisfaction of life. I feel like I struggle with that all the time too. I've got a good family situation, good job, good home, yet somehow I am still feeling unfulfilled.
Anyway, congrats on all that you've achieved so far. It's an impressive list.
I think you work in a law firm, yes?
I do too, and my bachelor's degree has taken me 11 years and counting. (I've told my coworkers to STOP ASKING when I'm going to finish -- I'll be done when I'm done!) So I understand the incremental progress while being surrounded by overachievers. I have no advice or anything - I just wanted to chime in to let you know that you're not alone in this!
Why can't we ever give ourselves credit? It's our curse.
You survived! That's a big fucking achievement, given this past year. I'm the objective outsider and I'm in awe. Please give yourself credit. Just decide to recognize this accomplishment. Refuse to indulge the other thoughts. This year you survived the storm and next year you can focus on more mundane successes.
First things first: Yoda never hissed. He murmured. Emphatically.
And you forgot "Enduring the Carnaval de la Caca without flinching" as one of your achievements.
I think part of the thing may be that you're using the wrong yardstick? Or...how about this: write at the top of that list: "Frau Brigitta did this" and then read. Frau Brigitta sounds mighty impressive now, doesn't she?
Yoda? You're hearing YODA? Time to break out the antipsychotics. The only thing worse would be hearing that Karate Kid guy.
Might I just point out, I was more than two years older than you before I decided I'd try to start taking steps toward going to med school. And at that point, I hadn't experienced marriage, home ownership, or motherhood (though I did have a substantial student loan debt!). So if you're saying YOU haven't done much, you are seriously insulting me. Which is fine, but I just thought I'd point it out.
To make a corny metaphor, I think you're just starting to realize that you've got wings and no cage.
Bring J.Q. over tonight and we'll distract him while you go out for some wind sprints. That'll take your mind off of depressing 80's alt-rock. Afterward we'll eat something that can be delivered.
It's called ambition. It's not easy to achieve, in and of itself, and it hurts...badly. But trust me, you don't want to lose it. Like anything in life, it's a cycle. This part surely sucks, but the next part will suck less. Dissatisfaction is the catalyst for greatness!
I see that your list of achievements does not include one I consider crucial:
- touched the lives of many (surely not just me?) by sharing your journey and talent, so honestly and thoughtfully
When you blog, you can't always see the effects you are having - but they are there! Like little ripples on the surface, or big currents beneath it.
I'd be proud of you!
I am with DM. 32 here and starting law school soon. Never married, no kids, no home ownership, but I too have the student loans.
Jul, you are doing fabulously and it is no time to stop. Take a bweether, but you have the drive and ambition to do what ever you want.
And come to think of it, i think i am insulted too ;)
The next time you don't feel like you've accomplished anything, ponder this: when I saw this on another blog I read, I remembered your xmas gift "dumb Jul" story. You have created an inextricable association in my mind having to do with Hello Kitty toast. Okay, fine, that's pretty lame, but it's SOMEthing, LOL!
http://openingyourmind.blogspot.com/2007/02/endorsement-toast.html
All I know is I love you for namechecking the Replacements. And quite frankly, you're at that age where many people realize "holy crap, I am burning through my 20s, I really AM going to to be midde aged someday. Is who I thought I wanted to be who I actually DO want to be?" And you've had a big wallop of a life experience that has forced you to take that look.
I also have a quote from my dad: "It's not where you start, it's where you end." And you have just started.
You're a maximizer! I'm sorry. I'm one, too.
What amyinmotown said.
I don't know, I fucked up all over the place myself and am still doing the should-I-or-should-I-not divorce dance. So maybe I'm not one to talk. But I've been through that angst more than once and the best medicine is to figure out exactly where you are going, where you want to be, and make sure those steps are leading you there. It's harder to compare yourself to other people when your own path is well defined.
Good luck, Melissa, I have no doubt you'll end up kicking many asses. It just takes a while.
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