Should I be enjoying this?
Exploring my guilt around enjoying silly little things...and some cheeky Halloween party reflections.
I’ve had a long, tired, unceasing battle with the word “should.” I mean, the word itself is fiiine, but the connotation and emotions it brings can—as my dear Brits would say— sod off.
Most of my beef with the spirit of “should” is around its ability to make us inherently feel less than. It creates a deep valley between where we are and where we want to be, providing a faulty bridge to ride between the two: a bridge that’s formed from feelings of guilt, insecurity, and an unsatisfactory approach to action.
Alright girl, what does that even mean?
Well, when I’m lying down on my couch after just completing a handful of chores, my feet sore and my bones pleading for rest, and that pesky inner voice screams out, “I should be doing XYZ right now”, I instantly feel deflated. And not just from my physical exhaustion, but from the mental toll that “should” takes on me.
Because what that “should” represents is the feeling that where I am at right now is not enough. That I need to be doing something else, that the present moment is something to escape so that I can satisfy that nagging feeling towards hyper-productivity.
And it sucks, and it’s boring, and it’s annoying how pervasive that “should” rhetoric has been in my patterns and beliefs. I mean, I’ve been working on myself for decades now, and I still fall into traps of “shoulds” every so often. Especially when stress comes to visit.
Like, for example, when I was planning a Halloween party at a local cafe in town. Initially, I was beyond stoked to expand what was once a modest house party to a full-blown event outside my home and in the town I’ve been lucky to call home for so many years. I had set myself up as the resident crazy American who loves Halloween, so now my Danish and international friends were primed and prepped to take this year’s Halloween celebration to the next level.
And all was going great: planning was shared between a group of dear friends and some fabulous volunteers from the cafe, which relieved so much stress, I can’t even tell you. As a person still grappling with my inherent need for support, having a larger party planning group created an even deeper sense of excitement and camaraderie with the process.
And my costume? Snatched.
I agreed to do a group costume with a friend who had a trusted Lord Farquaad wig that needed to be worn, so I volunteered to be the copyright-friendly, Pussy Bootz...because, of course.
All was coming together. And then the morning of the party hit, and so did my anxiety. And shortly after, the “shoulds.”
“Should I have done more with my costume??”
“Should I have made more decorations for the party?”
“Should I have picked a swankier place to host the party? I mean, I’m well into my 30s, shouldn’t I be hosting jaw-dropping, illustrious, expensive parties at my ripe age?”
“Should I even be as excited as I am to be donning a polyester cat suit and cartoonishly large plastic hat?”
“Should I even be enjoying the thrill of hosting a Halloween party? Shouldn’t I be consumed with speaking at conferences, or building a house, or volunteering to a good cause, or treating cancer, or something way more impressive or important?”
“Should I even find joy in these silly little things?”
Yes, bitch. You should.
You should, I should, we should scoop up every ounce of joy that finds its way to us.
This is the resolution I came to after an hour of salty tears, 30 minutes of rage voice messaging friends, and 10 minutes of deep breathing out in the open air.
Unfortunately, my mind—and I’m sure many other minds—have been prepped to see our lives as inherently not enough. Not impressive enough, not full enough, not expensive enough, not cool enough.
And so it’s all too easy to get stuck in spirals of comparing our lives to those of completely strangers (thanks, social media) with completely different backgrounds, privileges, interests, and joys.
We scroll through people’s most curated life highlights and subconsciously look for all the ways they are better and we are worse. Scanning for all the things that we “should” do to live better, be better, feel better.
And when that snowball starts a-tumbling, it can feel impossible to stop the mounting thoughts of all the things that we aren’t doing that we “should”.
And why do we want to do those things?
Well, cause then we look cooler, more interesting, more palatable, more relatable, more like everyone else. Herd mentality at its most sinister.
Comparison is the thief of joy. “Should” is the thief of contentment.
Comparing our lives to others is a fast-track way to bring our deepest insecurities and most debilitating anxieties to the surface. And comparing what gives us joy to what brings others joy is honestly one of the most idiotic things we can do.
After my breakdown/breakthrough, I remember just laughing on my bed as the tears dried on my face.
“Am I really NOT going to enjoy myself because I think this party isn’t cool enough to be enjoyed?
Am I really going to rob myself of this huge sense of play, creativity, connection, and fucking adult silliness just because I don’t think it will be Instagram-worthy?
Because I’m scared someone I haven’t talked to in years might think it’s cringe?”
What a fucking laugh.
I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, or just keeping your eyes and ears open as you traverse this modern world, but our joy (and in many cases our lives) are under attack. No hyperbole there.
In a world and time where so much is being taken stolen from us, we cannot afford for our joy to be one of those things. So we must claim it, protect it, and appreciate it — without judging where or how it emerges.
And I’m beyond grateful for that morning cry that allowed me to break through the mist of self-doubt, not enoughness, and ridiculously skewed comparison. Because after that, I finally allowed myself to enjoy the party I had created, and more broadly, the life I have created.
So yes, the photo background broke like 3 times during the party, we ran out of seats at one point, and the kaorake microphones had faulty wiring. The party wasn’t swanky. It wasn’t high-class aesthetic. It was rough around the edges and imperfect.
but
it was a good ass time. It was full of old friends and new friends, family and colleagues, mishaps and mischief, laughs and cheers, and a fuck ton of joy.
And the best part is, I allowed myself to enjoy it all. Without robbing my glee for all that I “could have” or “should have” done.
I found gratitude for all that I had done, all that I had collaborated on, all the creative hours I dedicated to this party. I gave myself a break and a pat on the back, because even with the chips stacked against me, I found joy.
I found joy in the obscurity of my costume.
I found joy in watching diverse friend groups mingle and connect.
I found joy in my top-tier karaoke performance of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’”.
I even found joy in sticking a gorgeously safe landing after tumbling down a staircase in my heeled boots (thank gawd for my core control and balance).
And not only did I find that joy, I held onto it. I’m still holding onto it almost a week later. I didn’t give that joy away because I was worried about how uncool, irresponsible, or silly it might appear to others.
I claimed that joy, fully and proudly. Because I realized, joy is too precious and too important to crush it under the weight of external expectations.
To enjoy life is to live life. And above all, I want to live this dear life I have been gifted, for as long as I can. Because once our joy is gone, it’s all gone.
And I’m not ready for that yet.
So babe, tell me, what unabashed joy are you finding today?
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