Let It Go

A couple Fridays ago, for the first time as a mom, I brought a kid to school wearing my jammies.

This was no drive-by delivery. This was the kind where you park the car, and walk said child to his classroom, allowing all the world to observe your full morning splendor of head-to-toe dinosaurs, a slept-in braid, and unbrushed teeth. The morning had just gotten away from me.

On the drive home, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just failed miserably or whether I had achieved enlightenment…or maybe something in between. The in-between shit is what kills me. I am so not an in-between kind of person. I like very clear delineations. Yes or No. Black or white. Jacob or Edward. (Jacob, obviously.) This, I have discovered in therapy, is called absolute thinking. It’s very common in people with depression and anxiety, like me, and it’s not great to formulate ideas this way.

Here’s why. Win or lose. Succeed or fail. Good or bad. It perpetuates perfectionistic tendencies and self-loathing. Here’s why. If you didn’t win, you’re a loser. If you don’t succeed, you’re a failure. If you’re not good, then, Girl, you’re bad! Gross, right?

In the words of my GBFF, Cody Rigsby, “It’s time to let that shit go, Elsa.”

But like with most things, it’s easier said than done. I have been testing a couple of approaches to see what works for me. I read an article a while back that advised creating psychological distance from your inner critic by naming it. I liked the idea of calling it Darth Vader. I have found it’s way easier to tell Darth Vader to fuck off than it is to tell myself.

Another strategy I have employed is a version of cognitive behavioral therapy. When I notice that my brain is becoming an inhospitable place for my body to live in, I imagine seeing a stop sign. This small act helps me reset my thought pattern and move on with my day in a more positive way.

Okay. Now that I have gotten Psych 101 out of the way, let’s get back to my dino jam jams in relation to society’s implicit (and sometimes explicit) messages to women that we should be striving to be unattainable versions of ourselves, while simultaneously setting us up to fail by continuously fucking with our heads so we can proceed to hate ourselves. Deep breath.

We’re supposed to be pretty, thin, youthful, and stylish - but without looking like we try. Smart - but not too smart, because it’s threatening. Fun to be around - but not too funny, because loud women are too much. Caring, nurturing, selfless - there aren’t really any limits on these things - just keep on giving until you shrivel up and die. Barf.

So. Pajamas. Did I fail at meeting society’s expectations and really let myself go? Or did I take some feminist stand to let go of the patriarchy? Or am I allowing myself to let go of my absolute thinking and sit somewhere in the middle?

I’m not sure. But I definitely let something go and I feel pretty okay about it.