Square Peg

Recently I shared in a game of "10 random things about me," and one of the things that I wrote was that I love how middle age gives me greater permission to be myself.

That got me wondering about self-improvement.

Here's the crux of the problem for me, and I'm hoping that I am not unique in this: I keep trying to use self-improvement as a way to change my fundamental self. And it doesn't work. It just leaves me feeling crappy about myself and resentful (or, worse, hopeless).

I mean, there are plenty of things I'd like to improve. Among them are:

• talking less and listening more
• judging less and relating more
• working with greater discipline and focus
• letting go of ego
• being kinder & more patient
• developing a more rigorous exercise routine
• eating less junk (and/or eating less emotionally)
• joining a writing group or taking a creative writing class

And so on.  These are all worthy aspirations. (If I am being truthful, and apparently I am, I also have some inherently unhealthy aspirations, like to lose weight or earn others' approval. I try to refocus myself when those desires hit me, which is often.) Anyway: the point is that there is nothing wrong with my list above.

Except...that I have an uncanny ability to take these perfectly healthy aspirations and make them unhealthy. One favorite method that I use is the old standby of comparison: I should talk less and listen more like my colleague X does, or do the kind of workout that friend Y does.  I fall short, and therefore am not good enough, less worthy than these other people who, I imagine, have "it" all together. Or at least more together than I do. I don't have it together at all. Another way that I twist these aspirations is through magical thinking. For example, I believe that if I work with greater discipline and focus, I will suddenly do better work and publish a lot. This, of course, completely changes the point. It started as a life-affirming objective relating to process and morphed into dangerous focus on outcomes.  Similarly, I convince myself that if I let go of ego I will become a zen master without character flaws. 

Instead, I remain stubbornly myself and make little progress towards goals that might allow me to live with greater balance and closer to my values. 

Then the obvious occurred to me: I need to embrace these aspirations within the bounds of remaining myself. With the full intention of still being me. So I might listen more and talk less--but still talk loudly and be socially awkward. I might be kinder and more patient, but still miss cues about how someone I care about feels. I might work with more focus and discipline, but still make only a modest contribution to my field. I could take a creative writing class and still end up stalled or uncertain of how to grow creatively (not to mention afraid to share my work.)

Why is it that the answers that have been sitting right in front of me the whole time feel like the most profound revelations? I need to carry this realization with me. I also need to whittle down my list of aspirations--the above is only partial, and it's already too much at once. 

Small steps that let me be myself, that's what I need. And that's what I wish for those around me.