It’s always so clear when someone else is being hard on themselves.
When a friend is lamenting not doing xyz, I’m quick to point out the extenuating circumstances and what they have already achieved, or how thinking, rest and reflection are equally important to doing the work.
And yet, when I’ve been told I’m being hard on myself for xyz, I refute the conclusion.
I don’t want to be told I’m hard on myself—I want to be told I’m capable of more.
There’s a quote attributed to Thomas Edison that I’ve mentioned before, and find equal parts inspiring and taunting: “If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.”
I often wonder when I’ll finally start doing all those things. Sometimes it’s thrilling to contemplate what might happen if I applied myself—the possibilities, the ideas, the lives. But sometimes it’s deflating—the failures, the half-done, the unlived.
Perhaps that’s why it’s difficult to hear we are being hard on ourselves—because we are convinced things could be otherwise if we did something about it, or did all the things we set out to do. We are convinced we are capable of so much more.
This internal nudge—to apply ourselves, achieve more, be our best—doesn’t always capture the full picture.
We presume other people are doing their best, but because we are privy to our own unchecked to-do lists or so-called shortcomings, we rarely give ourselves the same credit.
In this very oversight, we ignore that we, too, are fallible. Sure, we might be capable of more, but not all the time. We get tired, overwhelmed, indecisive, unsure. How easy we forget we are human.
Perhaps there are two kinds of best—the fantasy version of our best, and our actual best.
Yet it’s difficult to relinquish the fantasy because that feels a rather lot like defeat.
We want to keep the possibility of our best self alive because sometimes we really do astound ourselves. There are times we feel like the fullest expression of ourselves. There are those days we exceed expectations and feel exhilarated.
Other times, we might see the fantasy as a form of hope. It’s empowering to help someone see what’s possible, to help them realise what they are truly capable of, and to believe in them. Isn’t knowing we are capable of more sometimes the same as believing in ourselves?
Or, perhaps its comparison that keeps the fantasy alive. If someone else can do xyz, why can’t I? But we can never really know the reality of someone else’s life, what propels or prevents them from doing things, and we certainly can’t perfectly emulate another.
In any case, I’m sure the people we compare ourselves to think they are capable of more, too. Funny that.
So how do we know when we are trying our actual best, or when we are chasing a fantasy?
Is it my ambition, or is it how I’ve internalised ideas about success?
Am I being too hard on myself, or am I not being hard enough?
After all, there must be times when we do need a push. As Mary Oliver wrote, “The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave it neither power nor time.”
Do we need to give something power and time, or do we need the break?
Perhaps it’s a matter of distinguishing between capability and capacity.
We might be capable of more—we might have the skills, the aptitudes, the resources—but we might not have the capacity—the space, the scope, the energy.
I can hold the belief that I’m capable of more, but also recognise that things take the time they take.
When I’m not doing my best, I can remind myself that our best varies anyway. We often find we can apply ourselves one day, and need to compose ourselves the next.
So maybe that friend is right. We are being rather hard on ourselves. Maybe if we stop chasing after a fantasy for a moment, we can realise what’s already in progress, and maybe even find ourselves astonished.
This is so helpful to hear. I was just talking about this with a close friend last night (who I have shared this post with ☺️). We both see the other as doing so well, working so hard and achieving all the things, but we also both each feel that we aren’t on top of our own to-dos, don’t have a clear direction and aren’t fulfilling all the things we want to do. It’s funny how we are all so impressed my our friends and acquaintances, but so critical of ourselves - holding ourselves to a much higher standard of “best” than we ever would anyone else!
Thanks always for your thoughtful words 🩵
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. No matter where you think you should be, what you’re sharing here is truly meaningful already. And, I’m so grateful! It helps me soften that harsh voice and depicts perfectly my internal struggles ♥️