Let me introduce you to my friend, Carly. She's just plain amazing. I admire so much about her - her quick wit and her honesty (and sometimes that combination has you staring back at her wide-eyed and shocked or doubling over in laughter). I also appreciate her ability to really understand your feelings, even when you don't. She loves to write and take pictures, so I wanted to give her an opportunity to do both without a lot of pressure. Carly, thank you for sharing today on my blog!
It recently came to my attention that I have stopped doing many of the things that I once enjoyed. I realized this, and immediately started to unpack it: Why wasn't I playing the piano anymore? Why wasn't I writing? Why wasn't I running? Why wasn't I tinkering with my camera in my free time? Why did I refuse to learn to play any video game with my husband that required command of not one, but both, of my thumbs simultaneously?
A nagging voice in my head answered for me: because you're not any GOOD at those things. (Oh, hey Nagging Voice, nice to see you again...hope you've been well...)
If you're like me, this might sound familiar. Many of us were pushed at a young age to participate in activities that we were good at. Sometimes, we enjoyed those activities. Other times, we just enjoyed being good at them. It could have been anything--sports, music, art. At the heart of it, a lot of these activities are competitive--so, to an extent, being "good" was a necessary evil. But at some point, some of these things that we may have had a natural talent for became hard. And not all people are motivated by challenge, because challenge can mean failure. For some, fear of failure is absolutely paralyzing. I'm one of those people. I was the softball player who, with one opportunity in three years to catch the perfect fly ball that was lobbed right at her, ducked out of the way.
While softball may not have been my calling, I did have a natural predilection toward the arts. I spent a lot of my childhood experimenting with art supplies, and later, playing the piano. I was born with some level of innate creativity that served me well at the start of these activities that eventually, I kind of outgrew. I still identify as the artsy person I once was, but I haven't actually done more than color in an adult coloring book or take amateur photos with my iPhone in upwards of 20 years. "Crafty" or "musical" would be the last words I'd use to describe myself now.
The second I stopped being praised for being ahead of the curve, in both art and music, I stopped enjoying both. In fact, I didn't even see art and music as hobbies anymore--they were chores. I still to this day remember the calendar I had to keep to log my piano practice. My teacher had us log 30 minutes a day, 6 days a week, and when we brought the sheet in to our next lesson, we got a sticker for the week. After so many stickers, we received a special reward. My teacher knew in the months leading up to me quitting that I had given up. She begrudgingly gave me my sticker every week after listening to me struggle through pieces I had clearly only just looked at the morning of my lesson. She knew I wasn't practicing. I knew I wasn't practicing. My mom, who had to initial my sheet, knew I wasn't practicing. This was A Very Bad Feeling.
What was the point of playing the piano if I wasn't good anymore? Being challenged--and failing--meant that I was less likely to practice, and less practice meant I was less likely to advance. My peers continued to hone their craft, and I became green with envy. After several attempts to persuade my parents to let me quit, I finally freed myself from the shackles of piano lessons. "You'll regret this," my parents warned. And, they were right. I do.
This habit of quitting or giving up on things I enjoyed would follow me into my adulthood. Photography, running, cooking...All things I enjoy, all things I worked at perfecting, and all things I have quit. If nothing else, at least I am consistent.
A friend asked me recently, "what do you like to do?" When I realized I could only answer what I used to like to do, I felt a pang of regret. I still like music and art, speaking as a casual observer of both, but...creating it? Participating in it? What if I fail?
So, I had a crazy thought. What if I stopped basing my enjoyment off of success? Or, if that's too abstract, what if I redefine "success" all together--what if "success" stops meaning "being good at something" and starts to mean having fun doing something? (Side note: Have you ever watched people dance at a wedding, or sing karaoke? Clearly, being "good" is not always a necessary factor in the equation!)
This weekend, Maegan was kind enough to let me tag along on a photography excursion with her. I used to love photography, but always felt mystified by the technical part. My camera is sub-par, I don't have fancy photo-editing software, oh, and I don't know the first thing about aperture or shutter speed. I will admit that I felt a bit of panic when I woke up on Saturday morning to an overcast sky. Without the natural intrigue of light, shadows, and contrast, will any of my photos turn out? I had to gently remind myself that my goal wasn't to take "good" pictures (although, good pictures would be a happy accident), but instead, to enjoy the experience. It was fun just to get out there, trespass on the property of a creepy, abandoned barn, and put on my Artist Hat to see beauty in unexpected things, like the dilapidated structures on this property. It may be a cliche, but it's the journey that counts.
Here are a few of my favorites.
Mastery, as it turns out, may not be the end-all, be-all that we make it. I encourage you to find something that you used to enjoy--and do it! If you enjoy it, isn't that enough?
You never have to be "good" at anything only love what you do. That makes it perfect for you!
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