Permission to be average
When I think about the impact I want to have on the people I interact with, with my clients, with my community, and with the world I truly want so. much. I want people to feel empowered to be leaders in their own lives. I want people to honor themselves, to respect themselves, to value themselves enough to reach for all that is possible. I want people to have the space and safety to fail miserably and to celebrate their efforts. I want people to be seen and appreciated and accounted for as their whole beings. I want people to know, and truly believe, how resilient, capable, whole, and spectacular they are. Despite all of these wishes for my impact, I have distilled it down to the purest of them all. I want to shine a little bit of light on someone else.
I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also reflect on my own struggles, journey, weaknesses, and strengths. If I wasn’t also doing the ever-evolving work we are saddled (or gifted) with as human beings, I certainly wouldn’t trust myself to shed that little light on anyone else. In light of this, I want to touch upon something that is deeply core to my continuous evolution. You have permission to be average.
Let me explain. From my earliest memories, I have been championed. I have been told that I am the best. That I am #1. My accomplishments have been applauded. My achievements continued, unsurprising to those who celebrated me. All of this sounds wonderful, I know. And for the unending support, love, and unwavering confidence, I am truly grateful. However, unintentionally, from this practice my insatiable need for validation and for achievement was born, fostered, and allowed to run wild. It caused me to hold myself to an impossible standard. To move from one achievement to pursuing the next, only to bask in the fulfillment for a total of 5 minutes before finding some way to minimize it, suppress it, and move on. I felt that whatever I had accomplished wasn’t enough. I had to do better. One of my deepest fears, I’ve realized, is that if I stop “doing”, if I stop running from challenge to challenge, I won’t have the chance to be the best. I won’t be #1. I won’t be extraordinary. I will just be ordinary. Average.
Maybe it’s just me and my twisted perspective, but I feel like “average” and “ordinary” are treated like dirty words. My goodness. How much could you have failed to be called regular? Typical? What an insult. When you’re brought up with the sentiment that “anything is possible” and encouraged to “reach for the stars”, by comparison a mundane life inadvertently becomes unsatisfactory. Our world focuses heavily on achieving. On climbing the proverbial ladder, on being the best, on reaching the top. This is not to discourage having bold aspirations, pushing the limits, or celebrating killer outcomes. But can I make a suggestion? For the sake of all of those kids out there who, like me, worked so damn hard to get to somewhere that doesn’t exist, or even truly matter. Humor me.
Let us focus on the trying. Let us celebrate how fulfilling it is to find something worth working hard for, not what happens when we finish the project. Let us focus on how proud we can be of the pure energy, heart, and belief in ourselves as we pursue the things that matter. Let us let go of the notion that we need to be anything at all, let alone the best. Let us be fully who we are, even if that turns out to be “average”, “ordinary”, or “typical”. Now that? That is extraordinary.
