Something I Have Realized [Part 1]

I measure growth in pain. When my thoughts rest on the last eight months, a voice inside asks “Molly, what have you done? What are you worth? Wasting away. Eight months of your able-bodied-life---stagnant, useless.” I beat myself up. I want to grow, stretch. For some reason, as I have grown into my adult self, I have adopted this assumption that I am growing only when I am aching. Pain and making it through the pain whether it emotional (loneliness, broken hearted) or academic (constantly revised theses and tough questions without real answers) or physical (competing in races and sweating in hot yoga) has become my measure of accomplishment, worth. Why has this happened? Why do I look at this last eight months and think “useless….” just because it has been relatively comfortable, in fact, almost “painless”?

I have learned two entire new fields of work and adjusted somewhat accurately. I have learned how to budget while saving for both long and short term. I have been to Alaska, Minnesota, Rhode Island, Buffalo, Monroe, WI, Columbus, IN, LA and San Diego, NYC, Milwaukee, and upstate NY, and I am on my way to both New Orleans and India and planning a trip to Moab, UT and potentially South Africa. I have applied for fellowships in NYC and abroad and attended 90% of my brother’s varsity soccer games. I have become remarkably closer with my 2 year old cousin and rekindled my high school crush. That crush and I have been actively involved in both of our families and I have sold crafts at a craft fair with my mama. I have applied for a credit card and made my first ‘alumni donation.’ I have gotten to work at 7:30AM most mornings and navigated what it means to work in the Executive branch of the government. I’ve sent out book queries and baked banana bread. I ran a half marathon and made friends with every Jimmy Vs regular. I’ve sold wire trees like a real artist and ate at Taco Trucks all over town with my brother. I don’t know; I don’t need to go on. The point of this is that the last eight months have been nothing of a waste, but my mind refuses to acknowledge that because they have lacked any obscene amount of anguish.

I want to practice appreciating myself. Allowing myself to be alive without hurting. To find meaning in my accomplishments. This is an unfinished thought, as I understand what this speaks to and how this applies more universally I will elaborate.

Questions to consider in the meantime:

What constitutes growth? Do we always have to be growing? Is growth always linear? Can I grown backwards or cyclically? Is that growth ‘good’? Am I living it right?