Last week I was asked to sit on a panel by a young professionals group in our community. The panel discussion was about board service, and the idea was that the panelists (myself included) would serve as mentors for the young professionals interested in serving on boards.
I've been serving on a local city commission for about a year now, and the only other boards I've participated in have been PTO boards. So while I had some experience I'm not sure I was necessarily at experience level; mentor.
You're probably thinking, "Well, shit, Angie. Then why did you agree to sit on this panel?" I'm still figuring out how to say no. As one good friend put it, "We feel so flattered that someone asked us to do something, we can't turn it down." Yep, that's about it. Also I fed myself some bullshit about how it would be a learning opportunity for me. It would help me improve.
Well, I got there, shaking in my conservatively chosen nude pumps. We sat down, and as the organizer introduced each panelist, she put up on the projection screen behind us the list of boards, commissions and organizations we are all part of. Little did I know that people include any organization they'd ever, even remotely, ever in their life, been associated with.
You get where I'm going with this. The other panelists had LONG lists, like really long lists, like Santa's naughty and nice list long. I had two, the PTO I'm on, and my favorite Facebook group (mind you it's an amazing group that's doing amazing work in the arena of the body positivity movement). But my list was short. Embarrassingly short, like so short the organizer made mention of how she was sure I was involved in other organizations short.
After this humiliating introduction came a series of questions I could not fucking answer. I don't mean when you take a test, and you thought you got a C, but you end up with an A, I mean, I thought I got an F, but I probably got an F-. There was one young professional in the audience who after I answered the first question, LITERALLY rolled her eyes every time I began another answer.
I got through it though. I could put it on my list next time. That's really what I took away from the experience, that I could put it on my list.
I went home to my family that I had neglected for the evening. To my husband who had to take off work early and run everyone around to their different appointments and activities, and I thought, why the hell did I do this and how do other people do this? Two of the panelists had raised families, and I could not understand how they did it, and grew their lists. I also thought of all of those ambitious, driven young professionals, and I admired them (and was disappointed in myself for not being as ambitious and driven at their age), and thought about all the time they dedicated to learning how to make impressive lists like the ones the other panelists had. I was left feeling not good enough. Like I hadn't spent enough of my time improving my list. But why? Why did I feel the need to have a long list, why did they feel the need to build their lists, why does anyone feel the need to have a long list?
I only had to look as far as a Lowe's commercial for the answer.
Never stop improving.
That's right. That's what we're supposed to tell ourselves. I could be better. I could be thinner, smarter, faster, more knowledgeable, make more money, get a promotion, be part of more organizations, be funnier; you fill in the rest.
What if I couldn't? What if I didn't really fucking want to? What if I was already everything I could be? What if there was no room for improvement? What if I was already good enough? What if little old me, the dumbass with the two organization list, who couldn't answer the questions, was already good enough? Even in that moment?
Well guess what?, I was.
I wasn't wrong to spend the majority of my time on my kids. It's ok that I spent my early twenties dreaming about babies, drinking with friends, taking too long to get my undergrad, getting married too early, instead of attending meetings on board service and how to succeed in the business world. It's ok that I spent my thirties raising the babies I dreamed about, drinking wine while I watched them play in a wading pool, spending way too much time hanging out with my friends, and helping build a business that had nothing to do with anything I'd ever planned or mapped out for my future. I was good enough all those days, I was good enough as I fumbled answers on that panel, and I'm good enough today.
Right here, right now as I am. I don't need improving. I need to be open to the lessons that come my way, I need to stop glorifying a busy lifestyle, I need to be present in every moment, every joke told by my 3rd grader, every bit of time given to me by my new teenager, every hug my 11 year old curls into. I don't need to improve, I need to be. I'm good enough, and you are too.
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