Does Validation Sweeten Your Tea?
I’ve been working for the past 15 hours (nonstop). I was supposed to take a break in between but that flew over my head. (I did do the dishes and cry at different points. Those were therapeutic.) That’s what happens when you’re remote, if you’re not able to manage your time well. At least, I can say I got work done, even if it means that my eyes are a little blurry now and all I can think of is finishing up the work — not sleep. Three things in this letter.
Validation:
Validation is sweeter when you validate yourself. Last week, I had a short Twitter conversation with Binjo about imposter syndrome, and that’s what I’ve been thinking about all week — and still thinking about it. I won’t ordinarily say I experience imposter syndrome, but perhaps close enough; I downplay every fucking thing I accomplish, until I don’t. Until I don’t. There are few and far between moments that I acknowledge to myself and even publicly that I’m great because I feel that way. It happened this week, and when someone commented on that thing I was so proud to have accomplished, I only felt like shoving their comment beneath my carpet for a few seconds. I basked and still bask in it, knowing it was the truth. What does validation do to you?
Get out of your head:
This evening, I got very frustrated about something I was working on. You know that ghetto thing that happens when your laptop dies before you can save a Microsoft word doc, or NEPA takes light while you’re working on a computer? That sort of ghetto thing, but not exactly. I even wish I had NEPA, a dead battery and external forces to blame. I pulled my hair out, cried, asked God why — the drama was due to hormones, I promise. Still. In that moment, mine was the biggest problem in the world. When a neighbour called to tell me I had a delivery, I wanted to snap at them, and then at the delivery person. All the while, a little voice in my head seethed, “Can’t they see I’ve had a bad day,” “Don’t they know/see I don’t look particularly happy?”
Not for once did I contemplate that they could also have had bad days. Not until now. What’s the moral of the story? Get out of your head. It’s not easy, you live there all day long. But it’s important. The world won’t stop because of you. So why not keep it going?
“If you let things conquer you, you’ll lose confidence.”
Need I say more? In another letter, I’ll write about how failure can propel you and how in the past few months, I sort of searched for it, found it and got some clarity.
And then Ope’s reads:
Reading this Tyler Perry article (not by him, but on him) was a reminder that you can celebrate as well as criticise. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, they can co-exist. What DOING Lagos, which made me think about the Lagos now and the Lagos before. Kehinde Lijadu of the Lijadu sisters died, and here’s some of what you need to know about their music. I recommend them. On a lot of things — fighting the algorithm, thinking for yourself — Zadie Smith has a shitload to say. Is there a straight line between lack of sleep and cancer?
Good night! (I put a flower in this letter — a peony which I think is just wonderful, thank you Mary Oliver — because I think you deserve wonderful, wonderful things.) PS this letter was rushed and will have grammar/punctuation errors and verbs that don't agree. They'll be fine.