The Finish Line

Over the past few months, one quote has repeated in my head:

“Please don’t let me spend all my time focusing on a future finish line without realizing that I am already standing at one that my past self never could have even dreamt of reaching.”

I have repeated it to friends, coworkers, and on coaching calls, mostly so that it would sink in a little bit more each time.

It is not lost on me that I am proverbially standing at the culmination of thousands of steps, tears, and moments I couldn’t see my way through.

Yet, like every other person I know who, along the way, got addicted to improving themselves, I still too often look lovingly at my future instead of all the miracles in my present life.

I am the most myself I have ever been. I no longer hold resentment over what happened to me in the past. Instead, there is only gratitude. I have a list of hundreds of self-limiting beliefs and stories on my phone that I have actively disproven. But in the presence of others who reflect aspects that I still deem more lovable or worthy, I am quick to throw that all away with the renewed promise that I will work to further change myself to be what I am currently not.

The reasons why are more loving than they used to be, but the fact remains that my perspective on whether or not my current story is one of success or failure is up to me.

If I don’t remind myself of this daily, my old parts and patterns will ensure that my perspective is unfavorable. Which…is crazy and incredibly human.

And then you get to ask yourself the question, “Am I actually as unique as I believe myself to be, or do I just do the same things everyone else is doing while telling myself a story that I am the only one in the world who acts this way?”

That is for another newsletter and another day.

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I grew up in a household where there was constant scarcity regarding the amount of food we had in our house. Even when our fridge was stocked, there was more concern about how long it would last than celebrating the fact that we weren’t in the tight position we previously were.

A lot of this stemmed from my mother’s mental illness, and the fact that weeks of my Dad making chicken seven different ways were hard not to complain about as a child.

Ironically, the one thing always on our shelves was some concoction that reflected my parents’ constant diets (most notably Slim Fast).

Even at times when food pantries were visited, our house revolved around each of my parents trying desperately, over and over again, to lose weight and become a version of themselves they so desperately wanted to be.

And yet, even when they hit the numbers on the scales that they starved themselves (or ate a gross amount of pork rinds) for, all they could see was how much further they had to go.

It’s not surprising that in times of insecurity, an old part of me clings to hope that somehow my voice will lower, my beard will grow fuller, and I will put on about 40 pounds of muscle, all while growing six inches in height.

I am a product of my parents, in their best days and their worst.

I love them for all of it.

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My good friend, who I love and is undoubtedly reading this and rolling his eyes, pulled me aside over the holidays to share that he couldn’t wait until I let this constant chasing and doing go, but instead surrendered to all that my life is in this moment.

I immediately responded by listing all of the things I was working on and doing at that moment to achieve exactly that!

When it comes to self-work, I am that brown-nosing kid in class who raises his hand way too much and annoys everyone else by constantly reminding everyone that I did the reading.

My most recent realization regarding surrender was that clenching your fists and saying that you surrender out loud, while ensuring that no part of your body is relaxed or open, is not, in fact, surrendering.

Leave it to me to try to fully control even an act that is meant to be the opposition of control.

Baby steps…

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I have learned in the last few years how two things can be true at the same time.

I am as present, surrendered, and myself that I have ever been. And yet, I am constantly striving to reach the next version of myself that will be even better.

But more than holding two contradicting truths, I have learned how much the progress that we seek is not in the actual transformation when we “arrive” at the imaginary finish line we seek.

Instead, it is in catching ourselves a little quicker each time when we inevitably fall back into the patterns of the past that no longer serve us.

So, when I catch myself marveling at how much hotter and accomplished my future self will be, I try not to simply look back but to “feel back.” I go back to moments from the past and try to remember as many details, sensations, and feelings as possible.

The more I remind myself exactly what my life and dreams were like at that time, the more I remember just how far I have come.

More importantly, there is no destination that I need to orient myself towards moving forward.

There never was.

I never thought half of what exists in my life was possible. Instead, I took one foot and put it in front of another, which is the only way I will continue to get to wherever I am meant to be.

So here is to honoring the journey and releasing the imaginary finish lines of the future so that someday, we can simply surrender instead of trying to solve for exactly how to surrender like an equation.

With Love (and more self-help books than I will ever read),

Clayton