Сундук со сказками

For a long time I lived in a paradigm where I forced myself to do boring things I didn’t care about and waited for someone to signal that I could stop—for a bell to ring at school, for 5 p.m. to strike at work. I did not enjoy what I did. I brute-forced my way through it, waiting for satisfaction to eventually begin. During my upbringing, it was implied that until I did those boring things, I was not enough. One doesn’t feel satisfaction if what’s expected of them isn’t delivered.

I also understood that I couldn’t possibly fulfill all the unrealistic expectations placed upon me. I could only fake it. I lived in fear of being exposed as a fraud and shamed.

The measure of success was achievement, not enjoyment. The things I actually enjoyed were treated as lesser and were to be dropped on demand. I was to seek achievements that others—not me—could be proud of.

This was the mindset I was raised with. This is the toxic legacy of my upbringing—the legacy I’m working hard to shed.

I eventually extracted myself from the milieu where this was the norm. Separation heals. I’m slowly discovering the idea of doing things for my own enjoyment. I learn because the motivation is enjoyment, and I notice the joy is present in every single step I take.

I’m also learning that the process of achieving a goal—making a quilt, frying a pan of potatoes, traveling to a new place—can be broken down into solid, measurable, realistic steps with unambiguous results. No more guessing. I know whether a step was successful or not. And when it is successful, I feel satisfaction. The feeling comes on its own. There’s no need to “deserve” it.

I’m still very new to this. But wow—how different life is once the toxin is gone.