Personal Credo?

 The world isn’t black and white. Listen. Be kind to yourself. It’s okay to mess up. Just keep going. 

These phrases bring me hope. I often whisper them to myself, or speak them in my brain, in order to keep up with the demands of the world. To finish that assignment, that cross country race, keep moving forward in a show after I’ve missed a cue. 

They’re intentional thoughts that I desperately want to believe. However, implanting thoughts into my brain is difficult. 

I love these sort of vague mantras because I can constantly connect them with situations. There are wonderful moments when I hear that advice with new ears. It sort of clicks, and I see how this general rule can apply to many facets of my life. There’s a physical sensation. The inside of my skull is stretching, gently expanding, as I feel pieces click into a new configuration. It’s difficult to describe-- I’ve never heard anyone describe physical sensations of epiphany. 

As important and encompassing as they seem, I often don’t embody these values. I want to be open to the world, to learn from other people with different experiences. I want to get advice from people around me. I can do these things during long summer days when I have ten hours of sleep and practically no responsibility. They are significantly more difficult to accomplish as a grouchy, exhausted, stretched-way-too-thin-due-to-impulsive-commitments high school student. 

An example: running cross country meets. In the first mile, I’m doing fine. My brain still fully believes I’ll accomplish whatever goal I’ve set, that this isn’t a massive feat. Thus, the boisterous encouragement from spectators falls on receptive ears. When they scream that I’m doing well, I believe them. I lift my head and charge forward. Then I’m halfway through the second mile. My legs feel like they’re about to fall off. My eyelids are drooping. My stomach is protesting. My brain wants to shut this shit down. Then, the cheering falls on deaf ears. 

“You’re doing great!” Yeah, right. I’m practically rolling on the ground. I just want to be done. 

The mantras only hold when I remember them. Otherwise, I fall back into the bitter emotional impulses of exhaustion. All I want to do is sleep and I will very rudely ignore any input that comes my way. 

But even as I stumble through the last mile, I constantly remind my dwindling braincells of these principles. Don’t give up. It’s not quite what you were hoping for, but you can still keep going. 

Another example: I have a long list of tasks that, as I see it, I must complete this evening or risk failing at school. It is already 9:30 pm and I’m just home from rehearsal. I do not keep going, listen, or be kind. I do not do anything. All my brain can hold is sleep.

See, the credo is strange in that way. It’s not how I am, but how I want to be. Therefore, it must always be a conscious choice. 

Every so often, in a moment, I recognize I am becoming more open or understanding to something that I never was before. I recognize a new way of viewing something, and suddenly the views that “the others” hold no longer seem so alien and abhorrent. These moments open the possibilities of a future self who has largely internalized these ideals, adapting them to whatever current circumstances. 

It’s very important that I practice making choices in line with this. The goal is that some future version of me will be able to see all the shades of gray, listen to the wise people around me, and be kind to herself and others. Even when she’s mentally or physically exhausted. Because that’s just who she is.