When I was working and in school, I felt confident with myself, for the most part. I mean, in school I got report cards that told me I was doing all right. And even when I was working, while I didn’t get a grade, I did have the occasional praise from bosses and co-workers. I knew I was doing a good job.
But then motherhood came along. And suddenly, I didn’t have any of that outside praise and feedback. Which is good, because I shouldn’t need it to get along in life.
To be perfectly honest, I still miss the certificates and the trophies. I even just miss the feeling of finishing a project. Because my main purpose right now–raising a child–has no end, and very little feedback.
Most other things I do aren’t necessarily full of satisfaction. A clean house gets dirty again. Dinner is eaten without comment and forgotten.
Then I find myself comparing myself too often–my blog isn’t good enough, my writing isn’t good enough, my house isn’t decorated well enough, I’m not very good at this and that and the other.
I have mean inner voices sometimes like to tear myself down.
But I told myself one day in the midst of discouragement that I was good at what I did. Whatever that was. I was unique and different, and that’s okay. I didn’t have to be anyone else. I was a good mom because I had my own specific strengths. I may not be the best at everything, but I don’t need to be. I can be happy with my own sphere of influence and not lament what I don’t have or what I can’t do.
It made me feel better. I don’t have to wallow around in failure, because I am not failing. I have lots of room of improvement, but I am improving and I’m stronger than I used to be and I’m doing all right.