A few people have said to me they don’t feel particularly motivated right now, that they’re low energy, and just generally not feeling amazing. What keeps coming to mind is a post I wrote in November 2021 about letting things be terrible. Even though I’m not recovering from a car accident or participating in the now-defunct NaNoWriMo organization challenge, this post still feels relevant. Enjoy.
Right now, I’m engaging in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which means I’m aiming to write 50,000 words in a month. For the uninitiated, that’s a novel the length of The Great Gatsby. It’s approximately 75 pages single-spaced in a Word processing document. I’m pretty sure this new novel I’m working on is the worst piece of writing in the known universe, but I’m pressing forward. (Side note from 2026 me: It took me four years to finish it, but I’m incredibly proud of the novel I worked on during NaNoWriMo, and the people who’ve read it all told me that I wrote something wonderful. I’m currently pitching the book to literary agents.)
The advice for those writing during NaNoWriMo is to tame your inner editor. Instead of hitting the “delete” key when you think something sounds awful, just keep putting words on the page. Let the writing be bad. There’s something liberating in indulging in that mentality. To revel in it. To acknowledge, “I know this can be said better, but I don’t care.”
As someone with a history of perfectionism, it’s difficult for me to stop judging end results, but that’s what I’m encouraging myself to do right now. I’m acknowledging the new novel is bad, that it will likely change a lot before I’m finished, but I’m letting that be OK. I’m not nitpicking myself in the moment and instead giving myself freedom to relax, to explore, to try new things on the page. It’s fun!
Let it be terrible sometimes. Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Unsplash
I notice this principle, “Let it suck,” applies not only to creative projects, but also to the physical body (sometimes). Headline: I’m fine, but on Saturday night, I was in a car accident. While driving through an intersection, a car ran a red light and hit the driver’s side of my friend’s car. We swerved to the right, and the impact jostled me so I banged up my elbow and knees against the console very, very minorly. It’s my right shoulder blade that hurts this morning from the whiplash.
I took out a tennis ball and massaged the shoulder blade, but it still hurts. Nothing is dislocated; it just hurts. Because I was in a car accident. And instead of rushing to fix it, change it, solve it, I said to the pain, “I’m here. I’m listening, body.” I’m letting the pain be here, I’m letting things suck because sometimes that’s all we can do. The body heals on its own timeframe and that doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong.
It reminds me of this NY Times article I read a few years ago, where an American woman had a hysterectomy in Germany. When she asked about painkillers post-surgery, her medical team said she’d be given ibuprofen, and that’s it. When she talked to one of her doctors about it, he said, “Pain is a part of life. We cannot eliminate it, nor do we want to. The pain will guide you. You will know when to rest more; you will know when you are healing. If I give you Vicodin, you will no longer feel the pain, yes, but you will no longer know what your body is telling you. You might overexert yourself because you are no longer feeling the pain signals. All you need is rest.”
It confounded her, but it turned out her doctors were right. She didn’t need painkillers – she needed rest and patience. She let things suck, she let her body feel terrible, and that was her wisest course of action. For this month, I, too, am letting things suck in more ways than I anticipated, and that perhaps is a greater accomplishment than writing the worst novel the world has ever seen in the course of 30 days.
I dream of a world where we let things suck sometimes. A world where we let our creativity flow without any hindrance. A world where we check our self-editors at the door. A world where we let ourselves feel pain when it arises because it provides us with important information to guide our lives and direct our attention.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This past week I was in New Hampshire visiting friends and seeing one of my personal heroes, Elizabeth Gilbert speak about her new book. During that time I came to realize just how much I seek love and approval from others. How someone else’s approval is so valuable to me, I’m willing to do almost anything to get it.
In my last blogpost I wrote about perfection not equaling love. This week I’m still decompressing that notion, but instead of striving for perfection to gain love and approval, I don’t want to make any mistakes so love and approval will be revoked. A subtle difference, but a difference nonetheless.
Here’s a true story. My friends’ bathroom is in their bedroom, so that means at night I had to tiptoe past their sleeping bodies ninja-style in order to use the toilet. I felt absolutely terrified of waking them up, so much so I considered whether I could hold my bladder until daylight. (I couldn’t and didn’t. That doesn’t mean my heart didn’t race every time I crossed the threshold of their doorway though.) I honestly wondered if I woke them up if they would like me any less. Would my love get taken away? Would they decide I committed an offense so grand as to be unworthy of their friendship? My response to that is, “Gurl, you trippin.'” But it’s there. I felt that way. And it extends not just to friends but to strangers.
Sitting on the airplane flying back to SF, I asked my seatmates to get up multiple times so I could use the restroom. Each time I asked myself, “Do you really have to go? Can you hold it?” just because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I want you to love me so much I’m willing to go to any lengths to get it. Silly Rebekah, don’t you know love is given freely, it’s not something you earn because you’re a good girl? I guess I don’t. I’m still overcoming my childhood notions that wearing the right clothes or saying the right things will “make” people love me. And I so desperately want people to love me. So much so that I consider not going to the bathroom. Poor me, poor everyone who contorts themselves just so they can feel loved. What would the world be like if we all experienced love and approval unconditionally? Beautiful, amazing, divine.
After going to the bathroom for the third time in two hours at my friends’ apartment, I started journaling, thinking about the elements I can control. Obviously I can’t continue to tiptoe through life trying my hardest to never make a mistake ever because that’s impossible. What I can do is affirm, “I release my need for others’ validation.” Oh my goodness. The freedom. To be able to show up in life as my authentic self, carefree and confident is the most amazing feeling. I cannot guarantee my friends will love me forever — although I’d like to think they will — but I can release my need for their constant approval. And I can work on the two relationships that will stay with me through the end of time: the one with myself and the one with my higher power.
Is there any mistake I can ever make that will result in making me no longer love myself? No. There’s not. I may not fully believe that in this moment but I want to, oh how I want to. And it’s possible, it’s all a matter o training. It requires I look myself in the mirror and say, “Rebekah, I love you no matter what.” If I say it often enough I will believe it. Affirmations are like that.
The other relationship, the one with my higher power, thankfully already feels full of unconditional love (thank God). I already feel loved probably because nine months ago I redefined my higher power and the relationship I have. I see the love the universe has for me reflected in a thousand ways. From catching all my flights on time and arriving early in New Hampshire despite the snowpocalypse in the Northeast, to getting job opportunities out of the blue. The more I see that love, the more it comes back to me. So honestly, I don’t need to run around squawking, “Do you love me? What about you?” because there are two places where it’s secured forever and always: myself and my higher power.
I dream of a world where we love ourselves unconditionally. A world where we understand love is not a prize, but rather a gift. A world where we no longer seek approval in the eyes of another and instead work on giving that to ourselves. A world where we allow ourselves to make mistakes because unconditional love will never be taken away. A world where we rest easy because we feel sheltered by the Supreme.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.