I changed my online passwords when I was in the mad dash of finishing my dissertation in two months.
A year prior, I changed my passwords to ‘Badass’ (in slightly different forms — you know to make it a strong password, I swear Mum). ‘Badass’ had become my mantra.
I started reciting ‘badass’ when I ran my first 5k (this mantra became especially necessary after I wiped out and fell in the mud mid-race). It was my mantra to keep going and to assert my own strength.
I’m strong and a goddamn badass… or so I’d tell myself.
I decided to use my online passwords to reinforce my mantra. I wanted the keyboard strokes that I used every day to MEAN something. If I have to write out a series of letters, numbers and special characters multiple times a day, I might as well write out something encouraging.
I needed all the encouragement I could get.
And so, I wrote out ‘badass’ multiple times a day until I started to feel a little bit more like a badass.
But in the midst of sprinting towards the finish line of the dissertation, I needed a new mantra. Asserting my strength was great and all, but it was starting to feel a little stale.
And so, I changed my passwords to ‘Good Enough’ (or ‘gOOdEnouGh!’ or ‘100%GooDEnougH%’ or ‘?GooDeNough?’… you get the idea).
I chose ‘good enough’ because it was what I needed in order to move forward in my writing.
My aunt is a big supporter of a ‘good enough’ philosophy. She first talked to me about it in the context of being a good enough mother — not a perfect mother, but a good enough mother.
You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be good enough.
I tried to convince myself that all I had to be was a good enough scholar. My work didn’t have to be perfect, or even very good, it just had to be good enough. It just had to get written.
And so, I wrote out ‘good enough’ multiple times a day to remind myself.
Because I desperately needed the reminders.
I would start to panic in the mornings before settling in to a few hours of writing. I can’t do this. I haven’t read enough. I don’t know anything. I have nothing to say. People will see right through me. They’ll finally know that I’m a fraud and that I can’t actually write, read or think.
Luckily, most times when I would start to spiral, I inevitably would log into my email/Facebook/etc. and I would be FORCED to write out ‘good enough’ in order to access my accounts. I would be FORCED to remind myself that the bar I set for myself was not excellence or perfection, but simply being good enough.
And so, I did. I typed out ‘good enough’ multiple times a day and I completed and defended my dissertation in a few months.
I have used this mantra to get through my first year of teaching as well.
I don’t have to be the most inspiring teacher. I have to be good enough.
I don’t have to be the most accomplished researcher. I have to be good enough.
Being ‘good enough’ is a call to take myself less seriously and to make room for the beauty that lies just outside perfection and excellence.
It’s been over a year since I’ve used the password ‘Good Enough’ (and again, using slight variations… I swear) and its power has started to fade.
My fingers can glide through the passcode too quickly. The keystrokes no longer remind me to aim for ‘Good Enough’ multiple times a day. My fingers are on autopilot and the reminder is no longer effective.
I need a new mantra for this new year of trying to balance teaching, research and the rest of my life.
I still need the reminder to be ‘Good Enough’, though. I need the reminder when anxiety takes over my body and I spiral into negative thoughts about being the WORST teacher and the WORST researcher (which still happens fairly frequently). I need the gentle reminder that the opposite of ‘worst’ doesn’t have to be ‘best’. I need the nudge to be gentle with myself and to see the beauty in the striving to be better.
So, I’m still looking for a new mantra.
‘Breathe’? ’Show Up’? ’Try’? What about ‘Play’, ‘Create’, ‘Be Silly’?
Maybe it doesn’t have to be about the mental gymnastics I need to perform in order to be more productive. Maybe I can rebel against my so-well-internalized-it’s-hard-to-differentiate-from-my-own desire to be productive and to work more efficiently all the time.
I think the reminder that I need now is to play and to enjoy the process of improvising.
Recommended Readings:
Maggie Berg and Barbara K. Seeber. The Slow Professor: Challenging the Culture of Speed in the Academy. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2016.
D. W. Winnicott, Playing and Reality. New York: Routledge, 2005.
