When I was a kid, I thought growth was continuous. Every year I got a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit faster than the year before. I imagined this rate of growth would continue for the rest of my life, until one day when I was on a hike with my grandpa and noticed that he wasn’t keeping up with me. I ran back to ask him why and he said, “I’m old! I can’t move as quickly as you young kids can.”
The myth of continuous growth was shattered for me that day, and yet, something within me keeps wanting to believe in it. Every time I try a new hobby or habit I feel a spark of inspiration as I imagine all the ways this new thing will change my life for the better. Five minutes into a jog down the road I start planning all the runs I am going to take every week and races I am going to compete in every year and all the ways my body will get stronger and my mind will feel more free. Three strokes into a painting I start thinking about all the new supplies I want to buy and where I should set up a studio. The day I brought home four ducklings I started plotting an extensive system of ponds and nesting boxes for the dozens of ducks I imagined owning some day.
Then I forget about my big plans the next day, or the next week, or three months later. I get distracted by other obligations or ideas. I find something new that feels more like my “next big thing”, and then forget about that thing when I find another new thing. When I look back on my dreams and plans, I feel an acute sense of disappointment in myself for not doing everything I set out to do.
In so many ways we are set up to seek and expect one perfect solution to all our problems, and to only experience perpetual improvement every day after we find that solution. The Disney fairy tales I was raised on showed conflicted, unsettled young women feeling incomplete until the moment they met their prince and married him. Romantic comedies portray adult (or teen) versions of this same narrative. Religions, diets, self-help books, and capitalism all promise the same thing: if you can just find the right pill or the right prayer or the right product all your problems will be solved.
What I have learned about myself is that I function best when I set short-term expectations. My needs change season to season. I don’t want to be limited to just one perfect thing, I want to try lots of different things. I don’t want to shame myself for only gaining rudimentary skills, I want to celebrate the fact that I have got to experience so many cool things. And I want to recognize that sometimes I circle back to hobbies or ideas and try them again, which is great too.
My life has seen seasons of growth and seasons of retention, seasons of exploration and seasons of introspection, seasons of production and seasons of simplification. When I accept this rhythm of change I feel more comfortable with myself and who I naturally am. I feel strong and free. I feel relieved to realize that I don’t have to keep searching for something new and I don’t have to keep getting better all the time. I feel at peace.
Angie Gustafson 