Doing the Best We Can
One piece of pop psychology that actually seems to be true is the premise that at any given time we are all doing the best we can. Football coaches and motivational speakers may beg to differ, but they have a vested interest in making people think that they can always just try harder to achieve success by whatever definition is popular that day. I don't buy it. I believe that people want to succeed. They want to be good parents, good employees, good spouses. Hell, they just want to be good. In the real world though we are faced with all kinds of mundane challenges, from differing energy levels, differing states of mental clarity and motivational levels that rise and fall on a sea of different inputs.
I'm not advocating using this sentiment as a cop out for slacking. I'm advocating it as an explanation for the human condition. There are healthy methods of self-criticism, and then there are unhealthy feelings of low self-worth or guilt that serves no purpose. A certain amount of staring at one's own belly button is OK, but excessive bouts of obsessing over previous life choices is a self-centered exercise that serves little purpose. Learning how to be easy on yourself is the first step in extending that same level of acceptance to those you feel have let you down in life, whether it be your parents, former bosses or the bully in third grade.
I started my parenting journey as an 18-year-old living in a trailer park making $4.25 an hour, riding a Sears bicycle to work. By the time my oldest left to join the Navy, I owned a home, a couple of cars and had a state job from which I retired. Today that kid (now 41) manages a team of 600 people, talks to me all the time and has a life that would make plenty of people envious. He turned out just fine. I made plenty of mistakes with my kids. I don't say that lightly at all. Of course, I wish I'd been better in the Dad game, but I know longer wallow in any kind of guilt. My love for them never wavered, and that is what's important.
As a four times married recovering alcoholic with bipolar disorder, you better believed that I have regrets. I just don't have self-loathing. Life can be incredibly hard for the best equipped among us. Throw in a few handicaps and we all become miracles very quickly.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has things in their life other people don't know about. You can't tell who is recovering from a family death, who suffers from chronic pain, or who is desperately searching for an antidepressant that actually works. Some people make a big deal about not being judgmental, but I don't buy it. Being judgmental is a survival skill. I make judgments all the time, but I try not to do it in a way that lets other people live rent-free in my head. In my line of work, I deal with people who don't like or understand technology. Some get frustrated easily and act out when their computer doesn't do what they want it to. I don't like being treated rudely, who does, but I understand where they are coming from. I just file them in the appropriate mental category and I move on, or at least I try.
I don't pretend to love every one. I can't use "they're doing the best they can" to solve all my issues with the world. It doesn't help me understand or forgive Trump supporters, uncaring bosses or various flavors of mean people, but it definitely helps me deal with the people I care about.
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