In which we discover what an amazing husband I have

Ok, this post might get a bit emotional. You’ve been warned.

Today the Daily Calm meditation on my beloved Calm app was about Transformation. The quote that went along with the meditation was “We must not allow other people’s limited perceptions to define us.” by Virginia Satir. The meditation was about how people may have defined you in their heads based on your past, or the self they knew you as, or the concepts and assumptions they had about you. The meditation leader, the incomparable Tamara Levitt, talked about how it takes time for us to change aspects of who we are, and it may take even longer for others to recognize that change. Other see us in limited ways, or the old version of what you were. She gives as an example the rap star Drake, who was known primarily as a sensitive and vulnerable teen on the Canadian show “Degrassi” (which is kind of the opposite of a bold and brash rap star). He faced a perception problem, and he was patient and deliberate, determinedly revealing his new self to the world, and eventually the perceptions changed. If you used to have an addiction, people might have trouble trusting you, or someone who has had a series of failures but knows in her heart there is a success in them, might have trouble proving to others what she is made of. It’s up to us, says Tamara, to hold strong to these visions of who we are or who we want to become. We have to be careful not to let other’s perceptions stifle our growth.

It made tears roll down my cheeks.

I only would add that it is not only other’s perceptions, but also our own. I talked about all of this to Nathan, and I said, “Look at me. I’m a failure. I was a failure at school where I was a weirdo oddball and could never shake it, I failed to use my degrees, I’ve suffered with mental health problems and addictions, I was a disappointing mother, daughter, friend, wife… And now, look at me. I’m a “retired barista?” pathetic. All I ever really wanted to be is a writer, and I never went after it. I’ve never been good enough. Never.”

“What are you doing now?” said Nathan.

“I’m mucketting around with my blog, and I’m writing poems and knitting badly…”

“You,” he said “are a Writer.”

At this point I was crying. “But I’m not making any money at it! I’m not bringing in money at all!”

Nathan explained to me how making success about making money is a very Anglo-Calvinist Protestant American idea, and that there are other markers for success.

"What are you happiest doing?”

“Well… writing poems.”

“I guess you’re a Poet.” he said. “Do you consider it to be work?”

“Not really, it’s fun. It’s easy. It makes me happy.”

He then talked about his work, which he said any monkey could do, which is ridiculously untrue, he has a very important and complicated job, especially now, with Covid. (He’s the Emergency Preparedness Safety Manager for Unitypoint-Meriter Hospitals and Clinics, and he does fantastic work).

“Do you enjoy it?” I asked him.

“I love it! I found the perfect job for me, though it was all rather an accident that I got it. Just because you enjoy a thing, or that it may come easily to you does not mean that it’s not success. Writing comes easily to you, but it does not to everyone. Are you happy writing?”

I told him I was. “Then you’re a Writer. You’re a Poet.”

After which I had to leave the room to cry it out. But what he said… he said it with such conviction.

Yeah…

well…

ok…

Being a Writer is what I’ve always wanted to be. So, no more of this “retired barista.” I am a Writer. I am a Poet. It’s what I do. It’s what I love.

How cool is that?

(Nathan came up to me a few hours later. “For the record,” he said, looking me in the eyes, “I have never thought of you as a failure.”)