Cease and Desist

Focus has been eluding me this week. I am still in the throes of solidifying my commitment to producing this blog on a weekly basis. With any regular occurring task, there is potential for obligation. I am here because I want to be here, creating posts that (hopefully) have meaning and substance. With that said, I have recently been experiencing a sense of duty without much motivation or focus for carrying it out.

All We Are Is Entertainment

What I’m realizing is how much I’ve been giving in to the urge to perform. Like a caged circus animal prodded to do a routine night after night, so have I felt coerced into an act my heart is not supporting. The question is who or what is cracking the whip?

This week, I’ve felt disproportionally anxious at work. It’s been a mixed bag, for sure, since I can reflect on many fulfilling and excellent moments. At the same time, I’ve defaulted to a state of restlessness, an inability to focus, and a general disconnection from self.

There are always going to be external pressures to perform. I have responsibilities at work, at home, and in my relationships. I can complete tasks and fulfill obligations in these realms from a place of peace and groundedness. I can also complete those same exact tasks from a place of scarcity and fear.

Shift and Reverse

As someone who learned early on to go to great lengths to please others, I know a thing or two about performing, or as Brené Brown calls it, “hustling for your worth.” There is a shift in myself that transpires when I feel I’m in a deficit. A sense of hollowness has not yet surfaced to the level of consciousness, but it is already influencing my behavior.

When I start performing to get something, I relinquish my sense of self and place it in someone else’s hands. I begin operating from a place of emptiness, desperately pleading with my environment to fill me back up.

The tricky thing is I can fool myself (and others) into thinking I’m simply “firing on all cylinders.” I’m just being my wonderful self—altruistic and selfless. Oh, no need to thank me (for the love of goodness, please shower me with adoration).

Performance can look really good on the outside. Fake humility is the face of an empty heart manipulating others to affirm me and restore my sense of worth. But without genuine action on my part, I cannot truly receive praise. I’ve performed with a hidden motive: to get positive attention—yet, I continue to thirst after a thousand drinks of it.

Productivity Standards

One sign that tells me I’m performing is speeding up. Instead of showing up as a grounded, wise adult, I become over-responsible and begin overexerting myself. What may look like compassion and servant-mindedness is actually a desperate ploy to control the opinions of those around me. Maybe if I work hard enough, sacrifice my own needs, and cater to others without limitations, I will feel good about myself. If other people like me, I must be all right.

The infuriating part of this dysfunctional dance is it doesn’t work. I am putting forth Herculean efforts towards a futile task—trying to fill a bucket full of holes.

I feel insane sometimes because I try this time and time again. There is an addictive undercurrent at play that keeps pulling me back.

RIP Current

If I know performance isn’t working to fill my infinite void, what do I do about it? There is a sneaky conundrum here. I want to do more to avoid doing more. I’m already giving my best—how can I do another thing to solve this issue?

For anyone who has spent time at the beach, you’ve probably heard of the dreaded rip current. Named after the infamous serial killer, Jack the Ripper*, a rip current can pose a drowning risk just a stone’s throw from shore. Unlike the waves crashing towards the beach, the deadly rip current flows directly out to open sea. Get caught in it, and you may be in big trouble.

When ensnared by a rip, the perfectly sensible thing to do is to swim straight for shore. This is also the worst thing to do. Humans are no match for the ocean’s boundless energy. Try to swim directly against the current, and you will likely fatigue to the point of exhaustion. The key is actually to submit to the current, floating out towards the horizon before swimming perpendicular to the current until you’re clear of the ocean’s paradoxical pull.

Ah, nature comes through again with an analogy of human behavior.

While you might not perish by trying to perform your way out of performance, it’s not likely to get you the results you seek. The way out of performing for my worth is not to try harder, but to surrender. As with our rip current, the solution is to reorient your direction of travel, simultaneously submitting, in a way, to the force of the current.

Go With the Flow, Bro

The solution is always easier said than done. It helps me to identify the underlying pain(s) and wonky beliefs driving me to perform to please others versus trying to just outright stop.

I know I’m not the only one with a proclivity for the unhealthy kind of performance. The particular key pain drivers can vary from person to person, but I have a hunch that the common formula is something like this: “I am feeling not _______ enough.” Therefore, I’m going to recklessly hustle to prove to myself and others that I am _______ enough.

That blank space for me can be occupied by a multiplicity of terms. I feel not good/strong/desirable/important/worthy/attractive/fit/smart/valuable enough, to name a few.

Okay, so there’s no shortage of pain. That pain is what’s fueling my hyperactivity—my performance. Alongside this hustle, I am giving into anxiety, trying to escape difficult emotions, and probably neglecting my own personal boundaries (e.g. having trouble saying ‘no’).

So, what’s the truth? I am good enough. I have choices. I have nothing to prove. I am loved by God, unconditionally. I am valued. I am chosen. I am important.

Based on those truths, what are my best moves? Instead of perform, I choose to surrender the outcome. Instead of trying to escape and let anxiety run the show, I choose to remain present. Instead of taking on unrealistic workloads, I choose to value myself and set limitations.

Check Yourself Before You Resent Yourself (and Others)

At times, it can be onerous to tease out healthy from unhealthy performance. A handy litmus test I use is to take inventory of how I feel when I do something “nice” for someone and don’t get thanked in response. If I am authentically doing something good, I don’t need a thanks or an attaboy. If I am performing, I become angry. “Pshh, you’re welcome,” I’ll snottily remark when I don’t get thanked.

Unhealthy performance is transactional. There is an unspoken expectation that if I do this, you give me that. I am not behaving this way out of the goodness of my heart; I am seeking a specific response. If you don’t give it to me, I feel cheap and like you took advantage of me. There’s no free lunch here!

‘Performance’ is Not a Dirty Word

Don’t get me wrong; there is nothing problematic with taking pride in your work and getting praise for it. But if I’m thinking another person’s affirmation is going to fill my blank space, I’m not just wrong—I’m very wrong. Being seen for excellent work ought to be the cherry on top—the bonus—to the sense of accomplishment I feel within, but not the main prize.

*I made this up