"I can do better"

There has been a phrase resounding in my mind as I go to jiu jitsu practice, when I’m on the mats, and when I’m thinking about my training for the day. It is these four words: “I can do better.”

Some people might think that these words are harsh. Isn’t showing up to practice good enough?

I have been accused of being hard on myself. I think I’m still guilty of that. But as I work on myself more, there’s an unexpected thing that has happened to me: instead of thinking that I can settle, instead I’m believing that I’m capable of continually raising my standards, seeking new challenges for growth, and seeing just how far I can go if I let go of the historical limitations that I’ve placed on myself.

The end of last year and the start of this one was rough. I have an draft essay that describes — in an alarming number of paragraphs — all the ways I was depressed in January. I was dealing with a personal reckoning of sorts, then. On the outside, I was doing everything right, but on the instead, I felt as if everything was wrong. I had to confront the harsh reality that even though I did have moments of tranquility and happiness in my training, there was still an underlying unease about whether what I was doing was sustainable and authentic to myself.

I was, and still am, coming to terms with the traumatic experiences of my last school. It’s a lot better now (three cheers for therapy), but I had spent a lot of last year just hating on a certain individual and their school, to an inordinate degree. All that negative energy caught up to me at the start of the new year. I tried to take the easy path out by asking for reconciliation (a pitiful attempt on my part), only to have the effort thrown back in my face.

Change is scary and uncomfortable, but I’d argue that desiring change, while knowing it can’t happen overnight, is an even worse feeling. It’s a little bit like when you realize that your dream is actually a nightmare, but you still can’t quite shake yourself awake to get out of it. Or perhaps less dramatically, for us who are fortunate to have food on demand — when you realize that you are starving but can’t quite get the chance to eat right away.

In the past, when I realized that I wanted to change, I would make dramatic gestures, as if I was hoping to cram all of the work that needed to be done into an impossible window of time. Doing so only left me burned out and lost at the end of only a week or two of the supposed new way. I’ve only recently discovered that it is OK to slow down, take my time, and go step by step in the direction that I want to go.

I’m also learning to celebrate my progress, while maintaining a healthy desire to do more. When I celebrate my own progress, I learn to internalize and credit myself for the actions that I’ve taken to bring about change. It’s not just a self-congratulatory “look at me” act, but more of a private affair in which I allow myself to acknowledge my own agency and effort. With this attitude, the words “I can do better” is less of a directive, or a negative judgment, but more of a way to encapsculate the part of me that has done a lot, and the part of me that will be able to do more.

To me, progress feels authentic and sustainable when I don’t lose myself in the pursuit of my goals. I don’t contort myself in hurtful ways to achieve my goals, instead, I keep making adjustments until the goal and the self come together. It seems strange, but goals can change as you change too, and it’s in the maturity to allow some give and take that I think really solidifies meaningful change. The process is overall less rigid and frankly less painful because you’re letting in what you are ready to let in, and you keep out what may be less useful.

There are always going to be things that I want to get better at that I can’t focus on because I’m pursuing other things. These goals remind me of books that I’ve started but haven’t finished. Perhaps they have sat on the shelf and gathered dust, or perhaps they’re only there for a fortnight while I take care of something else. Yet every goal that I put down and pick up again has a bookmark, a place where I’ve paused with intention because marked my progress away for safekeeping. Wherever my attention needs to be next, I can feel confident that it’s okay to set something down for a little while, even if it feels I don’t want to let go.

Our life is full of emotional experiences but I do think that understanding the significance of those experiences has helped me immensely. Instead of rushing from goal to goal, I take a more deliberate approach where I move with resolve, not gut-wrenching anxiety. Taking the time to understand how experiences affect me, how I process the change, and what I see is the path ahead is something that I’ve ignored for a long time. But, I can do better. As I always have done.