Measuring A Bad Day’s Success

I’m an overachiever to my core. That coupled with the influence of living in a culture built on “the grind” and a tendency to self-deprecate is an utter disaster. A recipe for chaos and mistreatment of oneself, if you ask me.

In a recent therapy session, I was discussing exactly this and just how overwhelming the constant dread of the grind can be. We went over the feelings associated with trying to “make it work” between the hours of 9 am and 5 pm on the weekdays and my therapist, Richard (who I’m sure anyone reading will become intimately familiar with), eventually asked me how I felt on the weekends.

I think he was asking this rhetorically, however I answered nonetheless: “The weekends are better, because I feel like I’m allowed to relax and that I don’t have to be working.”

He made us pause at this moment, pointing out the verbiage “allowed,” which suggests I am essentially denying myself peace during the working hours. This tendency to force myself to stay driven and to self-deprecate when I’m not has led to stagnancy. I’ve in sum created a cycle of fear I’ve trapped myself in.

I’m realizing I’ve always struggled with giving myself grace, allowing myself peace. By “giving grace,” I mean offering myself the same understanding and patience I would a friend. It’s not a profound realization by any means, however they always say the first step toward healing anything is recognition.

Failing to give myself grace doesn’t mean I’m failing to practice self care – I consider it to be another subcategory in the world of “self love” that maybe requires a little more practice (for me, at least). Allowing myself to have off days, being understanding that motivation fluctuates, and being patient when I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.

Like I said, I’ve always been an overachiever and I’m prone to negative self-talk, often seeing my failings as evidence of a faulty character. When existing in a world that tends to measure a day’s worth in productivity, any day that doesn’t meet this criterion feels awash. If I can’t get my shit together on a bad day there’s something wrong with me, right?

I’m trying to teach myself that a day’s success can be measured in kindness, peace, happiness, good meals, taking my dogs on a long walk. I’m only human and holding myself to a standard of constant ambition and 100% productivity is frankly inhibiting.

When I’ve become convinced that an inability to achieve day in and day out is the mark of some shortcoming, how could I possibly expect myself to come around at any point and feel better? When you’re the one hurling insults, worried you’re useless, motivation is the farthest thing from reach.

Paralysis from fear of failure or a belief that you can’t succeed is all too real. An all-consuming sense of dread and anxiety is enough to halt any efforts being made toward your goals.

I’m learning that “giving yourself grace” really lies in the ability to control that negative self-talk and be patient in your efforts. Allowing yourself the same understanding you give to others, which can take practice. Patience isn’t necessarily a universal trait.

I’m learning that giving myself grace isn’t intuitive for me. The days I wake up slower, maybe more distracted or less ambitious, the urge to beat myself up is all too potent. Learning to be more understanding is half the battle.

I’m learning that to give myself grace, I have to remind myself that my productivity does not dictate my worth – even through gritted teeth and the occasional tear. On the days I’m feeling less than, it’s okay to take things slower and be patient with my progress. The work will get done, the motivation will return, and on a brighter note shit will simply be okay.