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Good Enough is Good Enough

posted 28th August 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Creativity, Inspiration, Renee, Season 3, What I've Learned

I sat down to write this post and got halfway through it and decided there was no fluidity, no form, no voice, and the whole thing was crap.

It’s writer’s block and it terrifies me. As someone who thrives on feeling productive, knowing that I just scrapped an hour’s worth of work makes me feel helpless and worthless.

I pride myself on my writing efficiency. In undergrad, I could knock out a three-to-five page paper in less than an hour. It would be a coherent, comprehensive work, too. Often, these papers would earn A’s, especially if it was for a class I really enjoyed.

Today? The writing isn’t coming easily. So instead I refill my glass of water… tap out a couple more words…  I check the mail… reread what I’ve written… I grab some string cheese from the fridge… delete a paragraph… I put another coat of nail polish on… and decide, screw it, this idea is not happening today.

And what can I do? How do I find inspiration when my energy turns negative? How should I expect myself to produce top-notch content when I feel sour about every word I type? How do I keep that Judgey McJudgerson voice in my head from constantly judging?

Is there anything more frustrating than not accepting what you produce? Be it music, art, writing, calculations, or whatever your line of work may be. It’s like, you don’t accept it so your client or readers or whatever sure as hell won’t accept it, either. But you know you’re your worst critic, so you try to look at it with someone else’s eyes and it actually just looks worse than you thought it did and please would that judgey voice STOP being all judgey in my head?

You’re certain when you submit it, it’s all mumbo-jumbo and you’re certain you’re just about to be fired because whatever you just submitted is total crap and your four year-old goddaughter could have created something way better than this. Is it naptime yet?

But then I take a step back. I take a deep breath. I roll out the tension in my shoulders. Each article, blog post, paper I write doesn’t have to be perfection. It doesn’t always have to break glass ceilings and burst through uncharted territory and thrill each and every reader. But it has to reach a level of acceptance.

One of my idols, Jane Fonda, writes in her autobiography, “Good enough is good enough.” Sometimes, that’s the best I can do and if I put forth good enough effort, then it’s good enough for me and it’s good enough for my audience. I can be proud of that.

I’m afraid of silly things—revolving doors, salmonella poisoning, things that go bump in the night–but I’m most afraid of not living up to my own expectations. I need to let myself off the hook from time to time and for God’s sake Renee just relax. Being authentic doesn’t mean being perfect, it means being the best version of yourself and meeting yourself where you are and being OKAY with that.

It’s gonna be okay. Relax.

[photo credit: AndWat]

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How it Unfolded

posted 14th August 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Job/Career/Work, Quarterlife Crisis, Renee, Season 3

Looking back, it’s possible that quitting my job with the United States House of Representatives wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made, but I’m starting to realize it was one of the first authentic decisions I’ve ever made.

I was the classic surface-level over-achiever. I knew what it took to look good on paper. I knew when to flash my pearly whites when meeting the right people. I knew how to think out loud to those who could make something happen for me. And all of that landed me a job managing the schedule of a freshman Democrat in Congress who represented a Republican agriculture district in a state that produced a controversial black President in an election that produced a volatile social and political climate. Yeah, I was on the front lines of political assault.

Day in and day out, I’d answer the phone to angry constituents, outraged over the first inklings of universal healthcare. There were injured veterans who couldn’t afford the gas to get them to the VA hospital. There were lobbyists demanding five minutes of my boss’s time. There were weekend events at fundraisers, schools, and legion halls. There were conference calls during evening hair appointments. There were orders coming from too many chiefs. And did I mention I was commuting 90 miles round trip?

Six months into it, I knew not even the student loan payback was making my “dream job” worthwhile. I was not happy. I started looking into getting my teaching certificate, was offered a job at a coffeehouse closer to home, gave my two week’s notice, and barely looked back.

That was July of 2009 and is nowhere near the end of my story.

I started working at the coffeeshop 5:30am-2:00pm five days a week. It was wonderful at first. I was even promoted to manager in September. But it went downhill quickly. I was told my teaching certificate would take six years part time. The hours and social environment of the coffeeshop became toxic.

I broke down.

In January 2010, I demoted myself and cut back my hours to focus on freelance writing. I was crushed when writing didn’t pay my bills immediately so I started waiting tables at a cute little Italian restaurant… and again, I found myself working seven days a week. Stressed. Unhappy. Worn thin. After nearly a month straight without a day off, I knew I had to make a decision before yet another meltdown.

I finally said goodbye to the coffeeshop. I now work weekends at the restaurant while I wait to start my graduate studies next week (!!!). I have rediscovered a love for cooking and a surprising devotion to bikram yoga. I ride my bike to the farmers markets and catch up on feminist literature in the sunshine. I play video games with my husband late into the evening. I plan real and fake vacations. I enthusiastically look forward to football season. I listen to way too many podcasts. I ignore my messy kitchen. I am learning to sew, to bake, and to love myself authentically. It seems I’ve found all I need but I know my journey is only beginning. But, for the first time, I’m excited to continue down this path because it finally feels just right.



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Let’s Start at the Very Beginning: My Quarterlife Crisis

posted 7th August 2010    Written by: Renee    CATEGORY: Quarterlife Crisis, Renee, Season 3, What I've Learned

INTRODUCING RENEE

I’m on the verge of something wonderful.


As a struggling, 24 year-old young woman, I experience the minutiae of the quarterlife crisis on a daily basis. Luckily, I recognize it and have learned to navigate my existence through the muck of quarterlife demons—the budgeting worries, the flooded basement panic attack, the hating one’s boss woes, the quitting of multiple jobs stories, the partaking in multiple jobs at once situations, the “Oh my God, did I marry the right dude?” moments, the “Oh my God, what would I do if I didn’t marry this dude?” epiphanies, I’ve been through it all.

My world is influenced by my experiences.  I am defined by some of the most poignant times of my life.

In the 4th grade, a girl named Nichole made fun of my pants for being too short. She asked why I was wearing flooders. I am now self-conscious about every pair of pants I put on.

I heard Phantom of the Opera for the first time in my 7th grade choir class. I was 12. It changed everything I thought about music, theatre, and performance. I knew I liked to sing, but I was suddenly drawn to the stage. Since that day, I’ve been a part of dozens of plays. I’ve spent countless hours with voice teachers. I’ve played leads in musicals. I’ve visited the Paris Opera House (the setting of Phantom). I’ve sung with choirs in Carnegie Hall, Los Angeles, St. Louis, San Antonio, Kansas City, and Dallas. I’ve sung showtunes in Dublin bars. My musical tastes have broadened and my appreciation for everything theatrical knows no bounds.

My spine was fused in June of 2004, mere weeks after my high school graduation. I spent ten days at Shriners Hospital for Children with some of the most amazing doctors and nurses in the world. I will forever have a soft spot in my heart for Shriners and nurses. I started college in a back brace.

I took my first Women’s Studies class in the fall semester of my sophomore year. I walked into class not knowing what to expect. I finished that class with a completely different perspective of the world, what it means to be a woman, what it means to be part of a greater sisterhood, a purpose for my education, a renewed drive to learn as much as possible, and a brand new major. I am a feminist, I am unashamed of my feminism, I have married a fellow feminist, and I attempt to live a life that reflects my commitment to true equality.

In 2006, I studied abroad in Rome, Italy. I ate incredible croissants and drank the best cappuccino in the world each morning. I wandered to the Coliseum, the Pantheon, and the Vatican when I was bored. I spoke the language of love proficiently. I was surrounded by rich culture, extraordinary faith, critical world history, and some of the best food in the world.

Each day, a part of me aches for that semester. I convey it by thinking phrases in Italian, trying to translate as much as I can remember. I attempt to cook authentic-tasting Italian food. I’m constantly on the quest for The Best Gelato in the United States (so far, New Orleans wins).

While abroad, I backpacked Europe solo for two and a half weeks. At 20 years old, I discovered parts of myself I never would have imagined existed. I discovered a love for solitude, culture, inspiration, controlling my own destiny, and dark beer. I realized and overcame my quarterlife crisis.  I’ve never felt more free, more authentic, or more beautiful.

I graduated from Saint Mary’s College, a private, liberal arts, all-women’s Catholic school; the sister school of the University of Notre Dame, in May 2008. I earned a B.A. in Women’s Studies and Communication Studies. I cherish every memory from my four years on campus and the opportunities my education has granted me. It was worth every penny of my student loan debt.

I worked for a member of Congress. I quit after six months. (Thanks quarterlife crisis.) More on this later.

I married my best friend in August 2009.  I know few things about myself at my core, but one thing I’ve always known is that I wanted to get married young. Joe and I moved in together in August 2008, were engaged a month later, and married a year to the day. We were 23. My husband reels me back in, holds me up when I’m too weak to stand, fervently supports my craziest decisions, and leads me when I’m afraid of the darkness ahead. He’s a beautiful person who inspires me to be better.

I start my graduate studies very soon.  Admittedly, I’m crazy nervous, crazy excited, and truly at peace with my decision to go back to school for my Masters in Communication Studies.

I subscribe to one truth: Every decision I make is the right one. If it doesn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, I made that decision because I was meant to learn a lesson. I strive for authenticity.

The best part of my life is the fact I have survived and I’m turning out to be one cool chick.

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