A couple days ago in process group, the discussion turned to relationships, past and present, and how to navigate them.
The common thread of the group was the term “working on myself.” “I can’t be with someone else if I don’t work on myself now!”
What does “working on myself” mean? I picture an old car getting a new coat of paint – a little bit of flash on the outside while the inside remains rusty and stagnant.
I know that the idea of self-improvement transcends physical appearance, yet how does one quantify the actual idea? Am I doing it at all? If so, how am I doing it?
These days, my bed seems warm while my thoughts seem cold. Why get out from under a blanket when I don’t want to face reality? I can’t drink to check out – like I may have in the past. I can’t take addictive anxiety medication to quiet my brain. I am stuck to reckon with myself, the good and the bad. Yet no amount of rumination and obsessiveness seems to fade away.
The notion of “working on myself” gives me pause, mostly due to the nature of the phrase. Self-improvement language implies that something is wrong and needs to be fixed. Of course, there is much I wish I had the momentum to change.
- I never exercise unless you count running to catch the subway, from a bear, or maybe towards a sample sale.
- If I’m bombarded with bills I sometimes ignore them until the debt collectors call. My desk is just a pile of unopened mail.
- I want to empathize more, not just sympathize.
There is much more, yet I do not know exactly how to begin this process of “working on myself” when my previous attempts have mainly been futile. I will never be perfect, nor do I want to be. Those little scrapes and dents are a roadmap of my past.
Maybe the only way we can “work on ourselves” is by accepting ourselves as we are. That is a difficult thing to do, and I by no means have done it. I’m quicker than most to highlight my own flaws, yet admitting that they are part of me has been an integral part of my journey.
It’s okay not to be motivated to run a marathon, or even get out of bed sometimes. A bad day or a terrible week does not render me ineffective. I’m not broken, and neither are you.
So let’s stop “working on ourselves” and start accepting ourselves.