I Approve

I was always a good girl. The girl who didn’t have a curfew because her parents knew she wouldn’t be up to anything (and I wasn’t). The girl who followed the rules. The one who never had a detention, who studied in study hall, who didn’t skip class or show up late, who would be mortified if she was accidentally rude to an adult and went to church on Sundays because she was supposed to.

But none of these things were the result of being a naturally good girl, I don’t think. They were more a result of wanting recognition. If there was a gold star available, I wanted to earn it. If there was an A to be had, I wanted to get it. If there was an adult in the room who could give me an “atta girl”, then I wanted to hear it.

I’ve spent my whole life seeking approval. I think some of us are just hardwired that way. It’s not about wanting people to like me – though I will admit, I do want them to – but it’s about feeling okay.  When I was in school, doing well equalled approval, so that’s what I did. At work, promotion and responsibility seemed to equal approval, so I have always worked ridiculously long hours and tried to get ahead. If I’m succeeding in some way – academically or professionally – I must be okay, right?

Right?

Or, no.

Because it’s a problem, when you need someone else to stamp a gold star on your forehead. It’s a problem when you realize that you don’t know what you think about your own life without someone else telling you that it’s either acceptable or not. You can’t rely on everyone else in the world for your own validation.

You need to be able to validate yourself.

This had never occurred to me.

I did and do realize that not everyone in the world needs to acknowledge my genius (hahahaha) and that not everyone will shower me with adoration or even like me. I don’t need either of those things to happen, but until the other day, it had honestly NEVER dawned on me that I also could be the person who decided if I’m okay or not. I had no idea that I could place my own personal stamp of approval on who I am and how I choose to live.

I have spent many months, though, working on something, and waiting for someone to tell me I was doing well. The other day I was looking at this enormous mess of a project, and I realized: No one is going to tell me this is awesome, even though it is and I know it. (It IS. And I do.)

So, I wondered, if I already know it’s awesome, then who cares? Does it matter?

The question freaked me out. The part of my brain that wishes it was still possible to measure success with a bubble sheet and a nicely sharpened number two pencil was like, “HECK YES IT MATTERS!”

But the rest of me – which, fortunately, has progressed past my junior year in high school – was like, “Wait. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.”

I don’t know if I will ever FULLY give up wanting approval. Maybe, as a somewhat social creature, that’s not possible. However, I do know this: allowing myself to be the author of validation in my own life? Has already made me a different person. A better person. A happier person.

Today, I give myself a gold star.

And a smiley face too.