Today's blog is dedicated to my friend Joan, with a huge thank you for giving me great, great insight.
Over lite frappucinos at Starbucks in Peabody, MA, we caught up with each others' lives and shared confidences.
"Sometimes," I said, "I look at peoples' Facebook pages and think, Jesus, I am a big failure. Because I read the postings and all their information about their jobs and what they've accomplished, and I just can't believe how little I'm accomplishing."
And Joan said something very, very smart. She said:
"Amy, EVERYONE feels like a failure. That's how it works."
She went on to explain that the I'm-A-Facebook-Failure Syndrome is a close relation to the How-Come-I-Don't-Have-A-Perfect-Life-Like-Hers and the I-Wish-I-Were-Part-Of-That-Perfect-Family mythology. No one's life is perfect. Scratch the buffed veneer and lots of tough stuff lurks: troubled children, drug addictions, eating disorders, shitty marriages, financial woes. Perfect families? No such thing. Turns out Mom's an alcoholic, Dad's having an affair and Grandpa is in a Federal witness protection program.
I know this stuff. Intellectually, that is. But knowing something intellectually and believing it emotionally are two different things.
At the emotional level -- the one that kicks into high gear 'round about midnight or later -- I've been wondering how I missed the turn. You know the one. The turn that leads to Fulfillment Land. The turn that would have directed me to that satisfying and challenging career. The turn that would have put me directly in the path of that endlessly fascinating partner. The turn that would have led to children and the summer house on the Vineyard and legs the length of Carly Simon's. Yes, THAT turn.
The comparison between that fantasy life -- the one I would have if I'd only seen the sign practically screaming TURN HERE -- and my current situation makes me feel like a failure. And I get on Facebook and think sometimes, Wow, all of these people managed to make that turn. I am a turn-missing fuck up.
But Joan, a definite smart cookie if ever there were one, tells me that everyone feels like this. And suddenly it's like having a headache lift -- there's that magical moment when the pain behind the eyes disappears and you're finally free.
"And you have so many friends," Joan adds. She says she has been really struck by how many people I interact with regularly on Facebook. "People from all over the world!"
A second gift from my generous friend. A moment of recognition (which, when you stop and think about it, is re-cognition -- re-realization) when I think, Hey, that feels good: I connect.
I'm adrift at the moment. I've lost my mother, I'm living in New Hampshire, I work for myself and by myself and there's risk and loneliness (and reward, too, of course) in that choice. I'm searching for some sort of place to start. Like when I was designing my kitchen and I knew from the minute I saw it that I would create the whole thing around that stove, that beautiful, beautiful stove (GE Cafe Series in stainless).
In this new life that I am molding, my starting point can be my ability and my willingness to connect. That's a real realization. Thank you, Joan.
For the record, you are the person I look at and say: "wow, what a successful person that Amy Selwyn is, wish I could be more like her". I have been lucky enough to have volunteered at Hospice for the last several years. Every time we meet as a group for the first time it becomes very clear to me: I don't want to swap lives with anyone else. I will take the shortcomings or challenges that I have, thank you, and be grateful. Life is full of lessons.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Isn't it funny/sad how our own perceptions of our lives and our accomplishments can often be so far off the mark? Your point about not wanting to swap lives is absolutely on the money. Learning to be grateful -- wow, that's a big one. A big accomplishment, I should say. Thank you for sharing that.
ReplyDeleteThere is some comfort in knowing we're not the only ones to have missed The Turn....or as I sometimes put it, the feeling that the ship left the dock without me. It astounds me how many accomplished people I know who tell me they feel like they're faking it every day. I smile inside whenever I hear that!
ReplyDeletedare I say the people who took the turn fret about what might have been if they'd taken a different, better turn or that the side road doesn't go anywhere new and surprising any more or that when the fulfilling job or the fulfilling marriage ends they won't know the way back to the main road.
ReplyDelete