I wasn’t sure if I really felt like writing tonight.
I feel like I’ve been writing and posting a lot more than usual lately and that has kind of left me feeling conflicted.
Should I really be selfishly be spending time in front of the computer tonight? Do people even want to read another blog? Are there not 50 other things I should be doing? If I write just to write is anything good even going to come out of it?
I wasn’t sure if I was going to participate in tonight’s Blogapalooza event about 5 minutes before the topic was posted.
And then the topic was posted.
“Write about fear, or lack thereof, and the role it has played in any aspect of your life.”
Ok, Blogapalooza…I’ll play along.
Fear is something that I’m ridiculously familiar with but, for the most part, it’s something I’ve learned to manage.
For the most part…
You see, there is one fear that I can’t seem to shake, and no matter who tells me what, I’m pretty sure it is a fear I will live with always.
I guess, in some ways, it actually shapes who I am.
Interestingly enough, all of those seemingly insignificant questions I was asking myself as I waited for 9:00 to roll around tonight tie right into my most constant fear…
Never being good enough.
I guess you could look at it as an insecurity or, if you don’t know me at all, an attempt to get some reassurance, a pat on the back, a job well done, a “you are doing great!”…
But for me, it’s a fear.
It’s a terrifying thought that looms in my subconscious always and does it’s best to surface more often than not.
Will I ever be good enough…for me?
I’m a perfectionist to a fault and it doesn’t matter what you think about me or how I choose to handle things, or clean things, or organize things, or parent my children…I will always judge myself, and I will usually come up short.
I worry that I’m not going to be the parent I think I should have been.
I worry that I am going to scar them, and ruin them and I am going to sit down in an empty house years from now when they are gone and I am going to be haunted by everything I should have done better to make their lives better.
Tonight I yelled at Ben because he was talking while I was doing a helpful follow up to his own brushing of his teeth and he kept biting his toothbrush with every word and I couldn’t get the blueberry muffin out of his back teeth and it was taking so long that Blake had had turned the counter into something that resembles the splash pad down the street and I was SCREAMING by the time we were done.
And then 10 minutes later they are in bed and I am sitting down watching TV enjoying a little bit of quiet and I suddenly can’t shake the fact that I cannot control my annoyance even in a situation that is as incredibly insignificant as talking while I am trying to help him brush his teeth.
I worry that I’ll never be the parent that I know I could have been…and it terrifies me.
Never mind all of the things that I do that truly constitute my being a good mom…in my eyes, those things are overshadowed by what I should have done better.
I’m a good enough mom in their eyes…but not in my own.
I’m pretty sure my husband thinks I’m alright in the whole being a wife department…either that or he is just too busy to think about not keeping me around. Either way, he tells me I’m doing okay.
But you know who doesn’t think she is good enough?
We are approaching the end of yet another basketball season and while we went to our fair share of games, I sit here worried that I should have taken our kids to more games. We should have gone to his game tonight because it is supposed to snow on Friday and I’m not driving these two little dudes out to a school in the middle of nowhere through a snowstorm and now I am feel like the wife who doesn’t support her husband.
Toss out the fact that I have spent the majority of my days without him around since November. Forget the fact that I have done the shopping and the finances and the cooking and the cleaning and the parenting while working and writing and attempting a phone call or a drink with a friend.
No, to me, it is the things that haven’t gotten done since practices started that are in the forefront of my mind.
And I’m the only one who even notices any of those things.
I worry that when I write I’m not going to ever be totally happy with the end result, that when I decorate a room I’m always going to look at the room that someone else decorated and be pissed off that I didn’t think of it first or that when I walk out the door I am never going to feel like I look as good as I should.
My greatest fear is a fear of never being good enough for myself.
My fear is that I will never feel accomplished. I will never feel done. I will never feel content with what I have done.
My fear is exhausting.
My fear threatens to cause me to miss things that everyone else is enjoying because I was too busy kicking my own ass.
Sometimes I enjoy things more after they have happened than I did when they were actually happening simply because I am always looking around to make sure I didn’t miss something obvious that should have been done and once it is over I can actually see that I did a good job…except for when I realize I forgot whatever it was that I swore I wouldn’t forget.
And while it doesn’t rule my life and it doesn’t ruin my life, it does shape my life.
I hold myself to a standard that I do not hold anyone else to…and I worry that I’ll never see exactly what it is that the people I love most do.
No need to shower me with compliments and love here (although the compliments and encouragement never get old)…
Like I said, the compliments and love that I’m lucky enough to have are more than enough…it’s my own standard that is the problem.
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