Finding Patience During Phases of In-Between
Learning how to sit in discomfort when lacking control over big life moments
The White Cape is a newsletter that shares the interests, evolution, and changing perspective of my little white Cape Cod-style home, and the people (mostly me) inside it.
This week’s things:
Inspired by my favorite podcast, A Thing or Two with Claire and Erica, each week I will share my favorite things that are occupying space in my mind.
Cookbook:
What to Cook When You Don’t Feel Like Cooking by is here and it is good. I have been long awaiting this book since it was announced, and have been loving the ease, approachability, and comfort that comes with each recipe. Caro’s Substack of the same name, , has been my go-to resource when we need recipe inspiration in our house. My daughter’s favorite thing to do is look through cookbooks on the floor with me, and this has been a fun addition to the pile.
Recipe:
The first recipe we made from What to Cook was included instructions to take any fish and place it on the stove with some tomatoes and herbs. Sign me up. We are deep in cherry tomato abundance over here, and this recipe was a perfect way to use up my latest harvest.
Understanding that I can’t control everything, especially the big stuff
Ah, here we are again. As mentioned above, I recently turned 30, and with that has come a lot of perspective on the past three decades of life. I am at an age where I can visually turn around in my mind and look upon my past self at different pivotal moments and understand the context, the rationale, the moving pieces around me that felt so burdensome at the time.
I am an over-achiever, a “high performer” as they like to say at work. Which means that I have exceptional output, but I also have a personality that fuels it. I am anxious. I am stressed. I am always going, going, going. Looking back at my life, I have been in a constant cycle of working toward something and then getting it. The satisfaction sits in for a finite period of time, then the goal posts shift, and the anxiety sets in for the next thing.
This has been a constant through line in my life, and I have been working to unpack where it stems from. There are a number of factors at play, the biggest, I believe, stemming from my childhood as a performer.
This has always been part of my elevator pitch: “Hi I’m Kelly and I’m a two-time national tap dance champion.” I always sneak this into conversation, especially when speaking to people in power or who are making judgments about my performance as an employee, as a date, as a professor. I revel in seeing their reaction, the surprised eyes and clear judgment shifting across their face.
During a recent conversation with my colleague, their response was, “That explains a lot.” What they meant by this is that I am a high-strung person. I am never satisfied. I am chasing the goal posts that are always 10 steps ahead. When I get the raise, the promotion, the positive pregnancy test, the new gadget, the race time, the number on the scale, all I want is more, different, better.
I have complained endlessly to this colleague every month about the different qualms in my life at the time. They respond with support and perspective, often giving me tough love like, “Maybe this isn’t a problem that needs to be solved right now,” or “There will be this problem but in a different form on whatever team you join.” It’s true, of course, that when someone is receiving my thoughts outside of my head, they can only be perceived as just a bit too exaggerated. My problems are usually not real problems. These problems will exist in every context I endure.
After stating the obvious “that explains a lot,” they also said, “Wow, I don’t think [company name] realizes how lucky they are to have you.” This colleague—who is a level higher than me and a team lead—has since offered me a job.
I cannot emphasize the satisfaction I feel following these three things:
Perform for the audience
Receive surprised and impressed response
Get offered a reward
This three-step process is how I live my life, over and over and over again. Of course it was ingrained in me the second I was asked to audition for my dance studio’s competition team at 5-years-old. I had been dancing for two years and was honestly cute, small, and had the look. I could develop and refine my skills over time since starting that young. And boy, I did that.
Over the next 10 years, dance was my life, particularly tap. I had a teacher who took special interest in me and we worked together for hours upon hours a week to become unstoppable. I worked, I cried, I bled. I lost skin and toenails and weight until I reached the peak where I could not be beat. I was a dancer and I was a champion.
But where do you go after you peak at 15? I stepped away from dance in high school to become a more well-rounded individual. I started playing sports and participating in a laundry list of activities that I look back on now and question, what was the point? I developed a real and legitimate sense of worry that my life would end—end—if I didn’t accomplish the things I wanted.
But here I am now, after enduring the most challenging year of my life, and sure enough I am seeking growth in my career, expansion of my home, growth in my family, and regain of my physical strength. I want to get promoted and renovate my house and buy a new car and get pregnant and run faster. I feel like I am standing outside a storefront, looking into the window of what my life could be, but can’t get in until someone unlocks the door.
To my fellow high performers, I hope this resonated with you, as I know this is not a unique experience. I suppose all we can do now is pause and breathe, and understand that this, like everything, is temporary. There will be an outcome, life will progress, and because of this discomfort, we will grow.
Thank you for being here,