To say that I strive for success is an understatement. It feels like my entire personality. If I could be working all of the time, I would (which is why my substance of choice is amphetamines). But a normal mind needs breaks. Like actual breaks. Not laying around for an hour while you think about what you should be doing. And guess what? I also don’t have a normal mind, and it’s just a fact that I need more rest and self-care than others. Only recently have I been able to relax without my mind taking me hostage. And oh my God… it feels so good. But I do get energy from being creative and passionate. The problem is no matter what I do, it’s never enough.
I don’t know when my goals got so huge. It’s probably around the time I thought I had written every song in the world with my mind. Here’s the problem. I’m not going to call mania great, but your mind reaches a level where you think you can achieve absolutely anything, and it does feel good. I feel like I’ve judged my productivity on a manic scale for a long time. So, now, if I haven’t written my entire memoir today, it’s not enough. I discount my work because it doesn’t reach that level. But like I said before, my mind needs rest. I need to sit on the couch and watch TV all day every Saturday. This feels like a failure because I compare it to my manic episodes where I would dedicate 48 hours to one thing. No food, no sleep. Maybe some pills, but that’s it. But you know what? Nothing I did when I was manic would make sense. I would fill notebooks with all of these ideas only to toss it aside when the mania was gone. When the depression hit, I couldn’t care less about those ideas. In present day, I’m trying to get all of this manic writing material organized. And it definitely gives me anxiety.
Why else do I think it isn’t enough? Yes, I want to achieve my manic goals, but do I believe in myself? Am I constantly trying to prove myself? Is the success for me or is it for other people? These are all questions I’m hashing out with my therapist. I will say that I come from a very successful family. My brothers a lawyer and my sister has her masters but she’s about to further her education. I mean, I have a PhD. The first thing I did was cry when it was done, but the next was to write it off and move on to the next thing. I barely even celebrated. I literally just framed my PhD and put it on the wall two years later (which does make me pause and celebrate). That is a huge accomplishment. So, why wasn’t it enough?
Part of it is just life. My therapist told me “you’re always going to have a to-do list” and that hit hard. I have lived the last ten years or so in fight-or-flight mode. I have worked really hard to heal my nervous system, and I can see the difference. But I have kind of lived as if I’m going to get to the finish line only to realize that life doesn’t end as long as you’re alive. There’s always going to be problems. There’s always going to be something to work on. And I know that my attitude has and will make me successful. But what if I stopped? What if happiness became my priority? What if I stopped trying to prove myself to other people? What if I sat with my accomplishments and silently celebrated them? I think maybe my work will finally be enough.
The finish line in life is actual death, and even then, I know I’ll have life after death. God is telling me to slow down, find purpose in being kind, and keep up with my recovery every day. I am enough!
Xoxo
