The Work They Can’t See

“Productive.” It’s the bane of my existence. It’s the new 4 letter word. The same goes for “goals.”

I have to admit that I’ve felt completely lost for a while now. At least a few years and probably for much longer than that. Aside from wanting to be a singer or an actress when I was little, I never really knew what I wanted to do. When I worked for Nordstrom I thought I wanted to work in fashion. When I dated a journalist, I thought I wanted to be a journalist. Then I married a teacher and I wanted to become a teacher…or so I thought. I guess I’m truly an actress at heart because I fooled everyone, including myself, into believing that I wanted to be these things. Toting around the euphoria that comes with purpose, I thought that once I get this job, once I marry this man, once I have this house, bliss will follow. I have been living in a never ending cycle of chasing happy.

Lately it’s been once I clean this house, once I write this book, once I lose this weight, bliss will surely be just on the other side of that, no? What stopped me from cycling into another fantasy of bliss was when I caught myself thinking, “once the kids are older and can clean up after themselves it will be easier.” Is that what I really want?…for my kids to be older? I know it’s not. Then why am I waiting for X,Y, and Z until I can give myself permission to be happy? I guess a better question is will a clean house, a new job, a thinner body make me happy. I’ve been told no. 

So what’s left? Be happy now, right? That’s what all those Pinterest quotes tell us. Stop waiting for things to be perfect. Stop waiting for someone to make you happy. Stop waiting to be happy. Be happy now. Do it. DO IT NOW. BE HAPPY. 

Image description: Baymax from Big Hero 6 trying to take a step up the stairs but falls on his face.

If only it were that simple. Can you imagine if you could tell yourself, “You know what? I’m not going to wait to be happy anymore. I’m doing it right the fuck now.” TA-DA! Mental health professionals would be out of their jobs. (Side note: praise be for therapist, amirite?)

It’s not that simple. I know that. You know that too otherwise we wouldn’t be here communing over the internet about our shared suffering. It’s not as simple as cleaning my house either or even writing this goddamn book. I’m learning that it’s not what I can produce that will bring me happiness. It’s my happiness that will help me produce…but like I said, I hate that word and all its forms so instead I will use the word flourish because 1.) I like plants and 2.) The etymology of flourish is to bloom and grow. “It’s my happiness that will help me flourish.” That feels better.

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I have been operating for a while now knowing full well that I have deeply rooted self-love deficiencies, but I thought that because I have done so much research on self-care that I had it down. My head knew so I thought my heart would follow. I thought making an extensive self-care routine, exercise schedule, and cleaning schedule would prove that I could take care of myself, and if I took care of myself then that would be evidence that I loved myself. Essentially, I unconsciously thought that I could act like I loved myself without actually having to love myself. Is that even love though? Or is it just productivity? Changing the external to heal the internal. I just don’t think it works that way. 

Me researching the self-care part while skipping the self-love part. Image description: cat typing wildly on a computer keyboard.

It’s as if I was constantly having to prove my worth to myself. How productive can you be, Jenilee? Turns out, not much. Because when I couldn’t keep up with the demands that I had set for myself, then I was a failure (obviously). 

The thing is I would never ever impose these kinds of expectations on the people I actually love. I would never expect my kids to make completely drastic changes to their behavior and their lives. So why is it okay for me to do this to myself? I guess that’s what happens when you lead with your head and not your heart. 

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The other day I made an appointment to see my therapist. Initially, I tried to make an appointment back in November but because my insurance changed I had to fill out the paperwork all over again, and if you’re anything like me you probably waited too long to reach out for help and so all that paperwork just seemed like another hurdle that my already weary body and mind could not jump. Three months and 2 cycles of depression later, I had the mental bandwidth to fill out the paperwork and schedule myself an appointment.

It took a lot of time and effort, and it was time and effort that no one could see. It wasn’t like cleaning the house or putting on a cute outfit or doing my hair where people notice that you did something. It was sitting at my computer answering question after question about my mental state. It was important work that no one could see. And maybe that’s what loving yourself looks like. Maybe it’s the brave work you do for yourself when no one’s looking. It’s sleeping. It’s resting. It’s thinking kind thoughts about yourself. It’s leading with your heart. It’s listening to your body. Sometimes it’s saying no. It’s not imposing strict schedules on yourself. It’s not how much work you can produce. It’s not seeing how much you can take. It’s just letting yourself be. Giving yourself permission to live. To breathe. It’s the work they can’t see. 

With Love,

JL