Listen to the Mustn'ts

Listen to the Mustn'ts, child.
Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles,
the won'ts.

Listen to the never haves,
then listen close to me.
Anything can happen, child.
Anything can be.

                    ~ Shel Silversteen

I love this poem.  I used to recite it with my kids every day before bed.

It resonates for me right now because at the moment, all the mustn'ts, shouldn'ts and impossibles are in my own head.  They keep company with all the should haves and the not quites and the other monsters in my closet and under my bed.

These things wake me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.  I think of every thing I failed to accomplish and I feel like an incredible fraud and that everyone I know is suddenly going to figure out that Beth is no genius, Beth is not a master programmer, Beth is not compassionate or wise . . . Beth is not an athlete.
Beth is, at best, average.
And I worry that when people figure that out, they will lose interest.

So this is what the Tough Mudder means to me -- it's something extraordinary.  It is something I can and will do.
And it is my way of making sure that the monsters under my bed take one to the chin.
I may not slay them -- but I can make sure that each time they beat me up, I beat back.

Logic tells me that I have also failed to swim the English Channel, or cure cancer -- but those things don't bother me because I never tried to do them.  My demons are the things I tried to do . . .  and failed.
Often the failure isn't actually failure -- most of the time, in fact, it is a conscious decision that there are other things on my "to-do" list that take precedence, and if I want to see something get done, I need to hand it off to someone who has both the time and the ability.
But it's that word - ability.
I have the ability and my monster's voice tells me, if I'd really wanted to, I could have made the time.

Is that true?  Maybe.  Probably not.  Ultimately, it doesn't matter because I'm going to beat myself up over it anyway.

Y'know, when I wrote my Master's thesis, my instructor wanted me to have it published.  I declined.
The reason -- I felt like it wasn't my best work.  I felt like if I'd just pushed harder or done more research, it would have been more brilliant.
I got an A+ on it.  My teacher thought it was wonderful.
And I STILL beat myself up over it.  I got a damn A+ and I still couldn't think it was great.  The idea of accepting that I did something extraordinary just isn't in my wheel house.
After all, if I could do it, how hard could it be?  (says the monster under the bed -- bitch.)

Why do I do this?  Why I am terrified that I will never be good enough?
Good enough for whom?

Mimi talked me down out of my tree today and for that I'm amazingly grateful.  She is, ever the champion for the underdog and when I said I was upset, she was all ready to kick the snot out of whoever was bothering me.  I know the feeling.  I feel that way about anything that messes with people I love too.
And let me tell you.  It was wonderful to have that sort of unquestioning support and love.
Problem is -- to kick the snot out of the person doing a number on me, . . . she'd have to kick the snot out of ME.  Isn't THAT a kick in the pants?

How she managed to find exactly the right amount of "You did the right thing, so let it go and move on."  and "but wow that does sound hard to deal with."  I don't know.  But it was exaclty right and I feel much better.
So, thank you.

Did arms again at the gym yesterday.  Can't straighten my right arm at the moment, but that feels wonderful.  It feels like the monster under my bed is going to get a tremendous upper cut (don't have to straighten my arm for that one) to the chin.

And Mimi will follow with a right hook that says "Yeah -- don't mess with my friend."
I can't even express how much that kind of relentless and unquestioning support means to me.

<3 you Egg mate.  Thank you.

We can do this.