Sad Baby, Jealous Baby
I felt very frustrated when I opened a newsletter from one of my favorite authors today. It highlighted an essay promoting a new memoir by an author who writes about living with disabilities. The essay talks about the idea that as a person with disabilities, what actually feels scarier than the pandemic is the return to normal life. I tossed my phone aside. That’s what I want to write about! My inner voice pouted. I had to talk myself down off the usual ledge of insecurity, jealousy, sadness, unworthiness, and less than-ness. I felt like if this person, who is way more accomplished than I am, gets another famous author promoting her work what chance do I have to be heard? There is no room for me.
In my family when someone is pouting about what they don’t or can’t have we refer to them as Sad Baby. It is in reference to a child we saw in the backseat of a truck at a stoplight near our house one afternoon. The child, maybe five or six, had his face pressed up against the rear window of the truck. Forlorn, his eyes peered into our souls. We made up a story about him being a sad about being trapped with his family in the back of the truck, dubbing him Sad Baby. It augmented the narrative my son had been expressing for our entire car ride about being trapped in our car running errands. He wanted to be anywhere but with us. I was Sad Baby today. I would rather be anywhere but trapped in my brain and the loop telling me how much I suck.
Elizabeth Gilbert has a quote about not worrying so much about originality but more about what you have to say about something, “…It might have been done before but it hasn’t been done by you.” My feelings toward Liz are complicated but I like the sentiment of this quote. It’s hard for me to fully believe someone cares about my perspective. It’s hard for me to write this blog—because it’s 2021 and the world is saturated with blogs. The questions I’m trying to ask instead of getting lost in self doubt: Can I add something to the conversation? Yes. Will my story connect with someone? Probably. Does this author, recipient of my jealous vibes, have the only viable perspective on re-entering the post-covid-19 world as a person with disabilities? No. There are more stories to tell.
I talked myself off the ledge and told myself if I want to be jealous then use it as motivation. I have something to say to. I can be heard, hold space, and create a community with people who write on similar topics. My spotlight will be smaller and less visible and it’s still worthy. Julie Cameron wrote in the Artist’s Way to use jealousy as a roadmap. After reading it five years ago, I think I’m ready to start putting it into practice. (Better late than never?).
I am a pessimist by nature. I used to refer to myself as the Eeyore of my friend group when I was young. It’s partly how I am made but also due to having an anxiety disorder. I have to consciously tell myself to check whether these self-defeating, world-ending thoughts are true. They never are. Is there reason to pause or be disappointed? Sure. The goal is to no longer let them deter me from what I want to pursue.
My brain will be my brain forever. It’s default mode will always be anxious and sad—especially when I see others experiencing what I wish I had. With therapy, medication, meditation and writing, I’m learning how to better check those thoughts when they appear and let them go. They won’t help me get to where I want to go. Now, when I see something I want being done by another person, I add it to my roadmap. Eventually I’ll end up at my own rad destination.