Not Fast Enough

Photo by Joel Darwin

It’s one of those days. I’m wishing I could backpedal to an earlier part of my twenties so I could have plotted out a more different path for myself. I’m hoping for path that would allow me to wake up to a reality where I have a bigger apartment, where I have someone from Masterchef as my in-house cook, and where I discover that I am a part-time cheesemonger.

I have this awful problem. I’m easily addicted to putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself, to nitpicking choices I’ve made in the past, and to comparing myself to other people. It’s an addiction because once I allow myself to go there, it will take a lot for me to yank myself out of it.

I only incorporated my business this year and even if I’ve been doing independent graphic design for a while (2 years part time, 1 year and eight months full time), I feel like I’m only doing it for real now. I feel like I spent too much time watching my hair grow and gazing at my navel; that if I had the gumption, I would have gone indie much earlier and I wouldn’t feel like such a rookie at age 28. I dig myself into this hole because I cheer and gawk for every new wonder design kid that’s doing amazing things in and out of college, and I start remembering what I was doing at age 20, 21, 22… those were really gross years for me.

I had a pretty long extended adolescence and I feel like I haven’t forgiven myself enough for it. For every instance I feel like showing Past Me love and encouragement, there would be more instances where I feel like whacking her on the head.

I have a hard time respecting my pace. This was the right time to incorporate. I wasn’t ready last year because I had to prove that I could make money at a consistent, steady rate every month. I wasn’t ready a couple of years ago because I still had to battle my colossal ego and I wasn’t equipped with even half of the skill set I possess now. I would only open my e-mail inbox once a week in 2009 (unthinkable!). It was my time with New Slang that got me indoctrinated with leaving my e-mail tab open the whole day.

I’m also addicted to glossing over my achievements in favor of holding magnifying glasses up to the things I haven’t accomplished. So even if yeah, I got much more ace with the Pathfinder window this year, I’m still wailing over the fact that I can’t draw or do lettering.

I’m even more afraid to talk about my personal life. I eat two square meals a day. Two, not three, because I don’t do a good job of regularly shopping for quick breakfast fixes, and I’d rather sleep an extra hour than wake up to cook breakfast. I do not work out. I have a special hatred for everyone’s Crossfit selfies because you and all of your grandmothers will be able to outrun me during the Zombie Apocalypse. I’ll get medals for sleeping through an apocalypse though!

I actively perpetuate this cycle because it hasn’t yet occurred to me to love myself more in this department. This eats at me because it’s a daily reminder of how I’m not doing a stellar job of taking care of myself. If I’m not taking care of myself, how can I take care of other people — specifically little people, the ones that I will eject out of me someday.

The best part of me knows that these are lower level emotions that do pass, if I just allow them to wash over me. I’m really impatient and I’ve gotten used to clearing one goal after the other that I can’t take it if life has me tied down for longer spells. Things I want aren’t happening fast enough and more than anything, that really just speaks of my inability to accept that I’m not really in control of my universe.

I’m lucid enough to also recognize that when I fast track things that I’m not ready for, they fall flat on my face. There are seasons for risking and those are the ones make me feel so alive, but there are also going to be seasons for waiting. It’s hard identifying which is which but a good rule is, if you’re being met with a lot of resistance, it’s a waiting season.

It’s too easy to dismiss the lessons you learn in waiting seasons. In my case at least, it’s here that I’m forced to think long and hard about my life. These are the periods were your soul is that one that’s being molded, not your skills — and in a lot of cases, the skills emerge because your soul was made ready for it. Because I’ve been bestowed with more wait than risk these days, it only means that my character is the one that needs more attention. Things will never be on my own time when they’re matters of character.

It’s one of those days.