A few weeks ago I was in a yoga class with one of my favorite teachers. We are acquainted, but not personal friends. I attend her class fairly regularly, but I don’t usually hang out and chat with her afterward. As the class progressed, she kept calling out my name “Julie, that was great,” “Julie, I see you, awesome.” Now, I get that one of the main points of yoga is not to care if you’re being praised, but I’m a type-A overachiever, so don’t judge. After a while, I began having the same kind of fantastic conversation with myself in my head. “I am awesome,” “I am KILLING it in here today.” I continued through the class feeling a great sense of pride and accomplishment. I laid there in the final pose knowing that I was slowly, but surely working my way toward all my goals. Self-actualization and inner fulfillment were right around the corner. I got up, collected my things and was on my way to thank the teacher for a great class when I realized she was chatting with another woman, also named Julie, who was the intended receiver of all of the praise I so graciously soaked up…well, damn.
I could not help but laugh at myself, for obvious reasons. But, then I began to think, why was I waiting for someone else to tell me I was doing a good job before I believed it? Why was I waiting for someone else to make me feel good about myself? And, more importantly, why do I care what someone else thinks?
These are almost the exact same things I warn my kids about 397,000 times a day. I tell them to be and do their best, to speak kindly to themselves, to know that no one’s opinion of them is more important than their own. So, I’m either a giant fraud or painfully human? I’m going with the second one because it sounds way better.
I really didn’t think that I was that concerned with outside validation, but apparently, at least in that yoga class, I was like a black whole of need. I’m going to blame at least some of it on wanting to be acknowledged. This motherhood gig can be fantastic, but, it can also be very isolating. You’re working in a vacuum. You have no idea what you’re doing and there is little to no feedback. Well, that’s not true, there’s lots of feedback, but if you’ve had children for more than five minutes you know that their feedback is sketchy, at best. Don’t get me wrong, I listen to my kids if they’re telling me something real, but, the general feedback, I filter. Because, having my parenting skills evaluated based on whether or not I allow video games during the week, optional bed times or the consumption of candy on a daily basis, is not something I’m going to give to much credit.
I’m talking about real feedback. Like, it would be nice to get a quarterly or even bi-annual review that just gives you an overall idea of how you’re doing. Maybe it could be a grade, or a scale of 1-5? It could be as simple as “these kids don’t appear to be heading for jail or self-destruction any time soon, keep up the good work! “
The reality is that this probably isn’t going to happen. So, I’ve got to start to be my own cheerleader. I’ve got to tell myself I am doing a good job or at least I’m doing my very best—and that’s all I’ve got. I’m giving it my all. That doesn’t mean I won’t make 3 million mistakes or even get half of this right, but, so what? That yoga class taught me to cheer for myself loudly, to believe the hype—even if it’s the kind I’m creating in my head. Because, whether it was true or not, believing made it better.
So, my friends, talk to yourself! People probably already think you’re a little crazy, so roll with and talk to yourself. Have full conversations with yourself. Tell yourself you’re doing a great job; you’re KILLING it! And, if you have an off day, tell yourself you get a chance at a re-do tomorrow. Talk it up, mamas! Namaste.