Approximate read time: 4.5 minutes
There's a pretty daily conversation I have with myself that centres around why I just can't seem to bring myself to do the things I say I want to do. I beat myself up, I look for (and quite readily find) excuses or reasons to permit myself to just slide under the expectations I try to have for myself. I've always done this, really. I think I've just gotten really good at it over the years.
When I was a teenager, somewhere in the ballpark of 17-18 years old, I used to work at Peter's No Frills -- a Canadian grocery store chain, in this particular case, owned by a man named Peter Hilge. It was my first job that wasn't carting newspapers around or helping out my dad at one of the various jobs he'd worked.
Actually, let's cut back a bit further. I think it'll help point out some behaviours for me.
As a kid I was always reasonably ahead of the curve in school. At least I think I was. I have memories of being told this by teachers, and my mom reinforcing it throughout my life, so I have to believe there's something to it. This was great at helping me maintain a level of confidence in my own intellect, which carries through to this day (imposter syndrome notwithstanding).
Thanks to the fucked up physical standards of our world at the time, for some reason I always felt like I was a fat kid. I built that idea into my head, despite any solid evidence beyond being slightly thicker than most of the kids around me. One of my most uncomfortable memories is at the end of Grade 7, going to Ontario Place with two girls in my grade, Dawn and Jenn (with 2 n's -- she was so clear about that it's stuck with me forever). Jenn would shortly after agree to be my first girlfriend in what resounds in memory as an event so cringy it would fit well in any coming of age movie. While at Ontario Place, and in the water park, which was the entire plan for our visit, I was so uncomfortable in my skin that I refused to take off my shirt, and when faced with the need to do so because of the slide we were waiting in line for, I ran back to our pile of possessions, removed it, but couldn't bring myself to go stand with them again, so I waited by myself in line for the next 20 minutes, no doubt leading to at least some confusion on their parts. It never really came up afterwards, and once I was finished with the ride I was able to put my shirt back on.
I never really was all that big though, and the kids in my grades who were, were often noticeably bigger than me. It was a self-fulfilling mentality that I've rode up to 350lbs, definitively morbidly obese, and entirely uncomfortable in the body and world I occupy, as a lot of things really aren't meant for someone my size.
The kicker is that I wasn't ever really the person I thought I was.
Anyway, this entire diatribe is meant to illustrate something that I consider my biggest blocker. Myself. Let's swing back to Peter, because he was the first person to really highlight this to me.
As has been relatively common in my life, be it from priviledge or merit, I excelled beyond my peers in the same space. I was able to do the basics of stocking shelves as good or better, and through conversation with managers and Peter, it became clear that I could do more than they were giving me. I also had a knack for working with computers, which helped me get an opportunity others didn't. I'll yadda yadda to the point where I'm 19, still working for Peter, and now I'm in charge of signage and labels. You know the barcodes all over a grocery store? That was me. The big ass signs too. I was the only person who did it. I took pride in that, and learned how to get away with minimal work and maximum reward.
No one recognized that but Peter. And one thing I think that helped shape my perspective of myself from that point forward was that he called me on it. The circumstances around it going back 20 years are hazy, but in essence he let me know that he knew I was smart, because he'd noticed I found the sweet spot of effort:reward, and because I could keep just ahead of the expectations others had of me, I'd always be able to do just the amount needed to keep me there, while observers would believe I was working my hardest, since I'd always seemed to be ahead of others.
He was exactly right. It wasn't necessarily conscious on my behalf, but once he called it out there was no way to undo that knowledge of myself.
All it's done for me since then is fester.
I'll quickly disparage myself and work to knock myself down. I don't have great feelings of self-worth, and over the last 20 years of my adulthood, the knowledge Peter unlocked for me has been a large reason for it. How can I feel good about myself knowing I'm not trying as hard as I can? Why push to my own limit if somewhere around the middle is where it starts being recognized as hard work?
Some people may read that and be annoyed. And you'd be right to. It's fucking frustrating. It leans on the fact that I've had an easy road in a lot of ways, and have found my way to stay on it. I haven't been without challenges but they're really inconsequential in a lot of ways, or manufactured by myself in others. My parents fought a lot when I was a kid. My dad drank, lost his jobs, and my mom worked to keep it together. They're still married, and it hasn't always been spectacular, and I've had many nights lost to smashed plates, crying, screaming, and trying to bury my head until it passed, but it was probably somewhat average overall, and plenty of people have done more from less.
Let's rein this in. The piece I wanted to convey is out there. I tried at not trying. I found my way to the comfortable spaces. I let a trickle in of discomfort from lack of effort slowly accumulate over my 39 years of life. There are reasons that I had no control over, and there are many more that I did.
I'm tired or wrestling with myself with questions like "why can't I just get motivated?", or feeling bothered by my partner asking me things like "why don't you take care of yourself by doing 'x'?". The answer is as true now as it was when Peter pointed to it for me. I found the sweet spot between effort and reward.
Today is my second day with my second bout of COVID. It's also the day I started reading about David Goggin's in his book Can't Hurt Me. I'm 1 chapter in, and the 8 year old boy he's recounting for me knows strife. Knows real struggles and pain. It made me feel uncomfortable. Not only because no child should have to endure what he did, but because I sit here surrounded by comfortable living. Not without challenges, sure, but more comfortable than I've ever been in my life before. I have a job that pays well. A family who cares about me. My biggest blocker to my own growth and success, for weight loss, writing, mental health, drive, compassion, fulfillment, and every aspect that I want for myself is me. It's that fucking sweet spot. And I don't want to be in it anymore.
This is my entry for Challenge 1. It exposes parts of me and highlights what I think my biggest challenge is.
The simple truth is that I really think it's me.
I'd like to try.
<3 flurp