Building things to feel worthy

On a walk around a nearby lake earlier this month, my upper back started to ache, so I stopped and sat for a while. Then I had to stop again. Somewhere on that slow walk, a memory came back.

I’m three or four, at the first house I lived in, and I want to build a fort. I break sticks and gather branches into a pile. But it doesn’t seem like I can do it. And there’s no part of me that thinks to ask anyone for help.

Sitting by the lake, I felt sad for that kid. Then I recognized him.

What did a pile of sticks have to do with now?

I still carry the same feeling. I want to do things, and I also feel like I can’t. And because I feel like I can’t, I often don’t try.

The other half took me longer to see. When I do build something, part of me is building to earn my place. To earn love, or to earn the feeling that I’m worth something.

So there’s a quiet math running underneath my days. If I’m not productive, I’m not worth much. On days when I don’t get enough done, I don’t just feel behind. I feel down on myself, with a little sadness under it.

How long has this been running?

Longer than I’d noticed, and it shows up in my journal all year.

In May I wrote down a rule I didn’t know I was living by: I must always be doing something. Somewhere early on, my body learned that being still wasn’t safe. The reason for that is long gone. My body hasn’t fully caught up.

In June I took a stretch of real time off. On the fifth day I wrote that I still hadn’t been able to relax. A few weeks later I put it plainly: I tend to sit idle and feel guilty about it, or go 110 miles an hour and burn myself out. There wasn’t much in between.

I also caught myself believing I had to earn my keep by being in pain or under stress. Earlier this month I wrote about headaches that gave me permission to stop. That’s the same rule from another side. Rest only counted if something hurt.

What am I trying instead?

The idea is simple. It hasn’t been easy. I’m practicing being worth something with nothing to show for it.

In practice, it’s me and the river, or me and a tree, with nobody watching, nothing made, nothing to post. No one tells me whether I did well, because there is nothing to do well at.

It’s been uncomfortable. Part of me keeps reaching for a scoreboard that isn’t there. Someone I see for this work told me to stick with it anyway. So I am.

I’m also trying to stop waiting for a burst of motivation that carries me for weeks. I’d rather look for little sparks. One small thing, done because I wanted to, not to earn anything.

How long will this take?

I don’t know. My honest guess is a month or two of feeling grouchy, maybe really grouchy, while the old rule loses its grip. That’s how I got through a long low stretch earlier this year. Not by fixing it, but by being patient while it moved.

I’m not going to stop building. I like building. This blog is me building something. What I want to change is why. I’d like to build because I want to, the way that kid wanted his fort, and not because I need it to prove I belong.

I still want the fort. I just don’t need it to earn my place in the yard.