I Did My Best

Do you ever wonder if you’re truly the best version of yourself?

Don’t worry I’m not going to give you some bullshit on how with the right mentality you can be 110% in every single thing you do in your life. Maybe that’s the right way to view it and I’m just a weak-ass beta, but I just so happen to believe otherwise.

Over the last year or so in my journey of self-betterment I’ve become privy to the concept of ‘inner child work’.

And on my drive home from work today in between missing my exit and humming along to the pop music that has somehow infiltrated it’s way into the namesake genre that is country music; my mind decided to delve deeper into what inner child work truly looks like for me.

When I have these negative feelings about myself, whether it’s doubt, anxiety or any of the other characters from that Inside Out movie, where do they stem from?

I used to look at it in a different way that maybe I felt my emotions were never really acknowledged and I was always told, “Speelman’s never cry”. 

Not saying this didn’t have it’s own impact, but as I sat there in the discomfort leaning into some of those memories, I realized some more

I remember growing up bringing my report card home for the first time and I was so proud to show my parents all my A’s and the single B. Pretty sure the B was in homeroom because there was a homework assignment I had colored incorrectly. Well tough shit Mrs. Walter I wanted my cow to be fucking blue, not some panda looking ass.

If I were to get a report card in my everyday life now I’d have an A++ in shit talking and a C in time management.

When I got off the bus that day and ran home to show my parents (I was a chubby fifth grader, so I’m being very liberal with the usage of the term run), I was met with this response from my father:

“Can you honestly say you tried your best?”

Ever since then I realize that one statement (and the many parallels of it he gave through the years) followed me and shaped a large part of how I live my everyday life.

At the time I felt like I had done the best of my ability.

But I started to psychoanalyze when my parents provided some pushback to my answer.

Because what does it really mean to do your best? To do ever single thing in your power and exert all of your entire energy reserve in effort to accomplish a certain task. I grew up playing sports and aside from one game in my sophomore year of high school I don't think that I will ever truly be convinced that I did "my best".

I could've ran harder.

Played smarter.

Shot better.

And here's why I thought that way:

“So you’re telling me there’s nothing you could’ve done to get that A?”

Looking back at this now as an adult (yet another term I use rather liberally considering my Amazon account is still linked to my moms card) I revert back to my original answer that yes, I did do my best. Because sometimes in life you need to give 85% of yourself to different areas, so that you can live your best life holistically because our lives are all cumulative of the things we partake in. We may wear different hats throughout the course of the week, but at the end of the day they all go in the same closet.

Take me for example:

Party Bike Captain

Wannabe Writer

Dog mom

Manager

Runner

Hiker

If I dedicated every single day to each of those things I'm pretty sure I'd be dead by now. I can barely make it through my hikes without falling on my ass as is.

Right now I work with a man who gives a 110% at work every single day. Shows up an hour early, skips lunch and always stays late. He knows if a single SKU number is out of place before any of the guys that make the SKUs even have time to test and enter them into the system.

And I think he may be one of the saddest people I’ve ever met.

Now this is all completely from my perspective, but this man lives and breathes for his place of work. 

Not to say that you shouldn’t be that way if that’s the life you want to live and that’s what makes you happy. BUT what I can say from my own experience is that I used to live my life in a similar way because I thought that was the way to become happy.

If you knew me at the ripe age of eighteen you got to experience the whirlwind that I was a college freshman. I was the definition of storming out of the gates (ie. my parents house). In a short two semesters I received multiple awards and recognitions as well as being interviewed and accepted into a variety of organizations on campus. I would get A’s in every class, still ask for extra credit and find a way to still make it to our local college bar and stay there til two in the morning.

At the time I felt unstoppable.

...Until I wasn’t.

As the year went on I hit a wall. I was so burned out I never even had time to stop and take a breath. I found myself surrounded yes by accomplishments and titles, but none of the things I truly loves, just the things I thought I was supposed to. 

Growing up my parents would have to take my book away from me at night, they weren’t worried about me scrolling through my Kik messages or Ask.fm (hope that dated me a little), they knew I’d be up all night trying to find out what was going to happen to FireStar and the rest of the warrior clan. 

***Yes, I was that girl that read the books about the cat clans that ruled the local condominium development.. And still to this day it’s some of the best damn literature I ever indulged myself in***

There was a point for a long time where I couldn't even remember the last time I had picked up a book, outside of one for my Chinese class (yes, white girl is semi-cultured believe it or not).

Presently it’s something I’m trying to fall back in love with, but also I am not trying to force it. These days I find myself more enamored with being outside with my dogs, although a bit more challenging in the hundred-plus degree weather we are currently experiencing in the Greater Phoenix Area, but I make due.

I think a good measure of your happiness is not the money you make or the reviews of your coworkers, but rather a review from your younger self of sorts.

What would little Lauren think of me now?

And I can honestly say she’d think I was a boss-ass bitch and maybe even be a little scared of me, which I find endearing.

While I may not be actually as tough as I’d like people to think all the time, I am a whole hell of a lot tougher than the girl who would let people (especially men) walk all over her.

So mom and dad, sorry for the delayed answer, but yes, I did do my best and will continue to try and maintain that answer as I continue to live my life. While I know I go about it all differently than the two of you would for yourselves and even juxtaposed to how you’d prefer me to live my own (yes there will be more hand tattoos) I know this is the right path that I am on.

Right now the best version of myself has two too many dogs, a low bank account, three jobs and a lot of cuts and scrapes from hiking… and I couldn’t be happier.

Now much like cars the best version of yourself may look different every year, maybe even in a shorter time span. You may have thought for the longest time that once you moved away you would be happy to get out of your hometown, only to realize a big part of your identity is in those friends and family you had established back home. Regardless of what ‘your best’ is, it is YOURS. That’s for you to decide, experiment and find out, and just like any experiment you will probably fail a couple times. 

Hell, you think Adam just magically found Eve’s clit on the first try?

You guys know my blog, I can’t write and not mention something sexual at least once, come on.

My biggest thing I’d like you guys to take away, since you’re apparently still here for some reason, is that we as people have this innate urge and desire to both please and impress. Whether it’s our parents, partners, society or even ourselves. It’s almost like we have to prove our worth in away to be allowed to exist. I want you to know that’s not the case. Now I’d prefer you to not be sitting in your parents basement with orange Dorito fingers switching from playing with your Xbox to playing with yourself, but again at the end of the day it’s your life to choose how you live it, so as long as it’s not impeding on others in a negative way, go for it.

Although your parents may have thoughts about that.

As always thanks for letting me take your time, hope you found it worth it.

Xoxo Mild Girl

***I’d also like to note that I had an amazingly, happy childhood and am so loved. This is in no way me shitting on them or how I was raised. I am a firm believer that we all can do inner child-work in our own ways because like us, our parents are human. Contrary to what the Brady Bunch tried to model for us, there is no cookie cutter family that handles things the exact right way. I’m not saying we all necessarily have childhood trauma, but to say that there’s not probably some emotions we all need to work through or at least acknowledge from that time in our lives is a bit close-minded in my personal opinion.