REALLY This is it?!?

I don't want to lose my drive. A potential client told me. I mean, I hate my anxiety, but I love the drive to accomplish that it gives me. Yep, I get it. I said I totally understand. I can promise you won't lose your drive—it will just come from a different place.

I have mentioned in Spiral 2 the catch-22 of HFA. We are like swans on top of the water, and then underneath the water, we are paddling like hell, and swimming behind us is an invisible Monger whispering in our ear, telling us how terrible we are, and if we don't hustle harder, we will be found out. She convinces us that if we push hard enough, one day, we will reach the promised land of perfection where we can finally relax. There will be no more anxiety or pushing in the promised land, and we will FINALLY be perfect. 

But I remember the day I first realized all my pushing and hustling and belief that one day I would be perfect was a myth. I can't even tell you what I was doing or why I had the thought, but I remember walking across our backyard to our garage and thinking, Nancy, what if this is it? What if this is life, walking to the car, hanging out with your husband? What if there won't be a time or place where everything is anxiety-free and perfect? It felt like a gut punch, and I turned to my husband and said, ok, random thought, but I just realized that life might not get better than this—what if this is it?! Yep, he smiled. It is a depressing and a super freeing thought all at the same time. 

 I will always be me, no matter how hard I push and hustle.

I WILL ALWAYS BE ME, anxious, neurotic, loving, loyal me. Although my husband said it was a super freeing statement—all I felt was grief. Grief that a core belief of mine was shaken. This is one of those moments I talked about earlier this week—where of course, I logically knew there was no point where I would finally be deemed anxiety free and full of peace and perfection. But illogical or not, it was a belief that drove me. It inspired me to push harder and dig deeper. 

The grief came from disappointment that there really wouldn't be peace somewhere out there. No matter how much I hustled, I would still feel empty inside because the answer wasn't out there. The answer was within. Wow, was that a disappointment! What am I supposed to do with that news? It is like realizing there is no Santa Claus. I built my whole life around pushing myself to be the best, anxiety be damned. I told myself that even with all my anxiety, it would be worth it because I would finally have the peace of perfection. 

Under that grief was anger—a lot of anger that I had been sold a lie—a lie that I could control things and white-knuckle my way through life. That lie had a high price. I had over-functioned my way through life, missing out on the small joys all because of a lie. 

I still feel that grief and anger from time to time. When my anxiety peaks or I catch myself white-knuckling, I acknowledge the pain that years of believing this lie has caused.

I would love to say I had that ah-ha that day walking across our yard, and poof, I maneuvered through my grief and got to the other side, accepting that this is it; no matter what I do, I will always be me. But the road has been curvy—one could say full of spirals—and even to this day, I keep revisiting this idea over and over.

The freedom my husband talked about that day is something I tried to lean into. This freedom was what I was describing to my client, and it comes from self-loyalty. If there is no right way or set path, I will be safe as long as I have my own back. Life becomes more of a flow, a series of experiences rather than something I must conquer. When I am most self-loyal, I realize each day is new, and I try to be the best of myself; sometimes, I nail it, and sometimes I fail. As Mary Chapin Carpenter's Song, The Bug says, “Some days you are the windshield, and some days you are the bug.” 

It is 100% necessary to travel that road between grief and freedom. Over the past few months, we have been unpacking this belief that we need to be mean to ourselves to accomplish anything—all with the hope that one day, freedom from anxiety, and perfection will be attainable. "The truth is," I said to my client that day, It shocks me too, but I did not lose my drive in fact accomplish much more with less anxiety since learning to quiet my Monger and bring in my biggest fan." Continually bringing myself back to the present moment, to self loyalty, to knowing I am safe right now. Letting go of the myth that one day I will be fixed is a hard process--but it has been a game changer in my life.