What do I mean by that? Not that I am a scientist deep in research (that'd be cool if that's where this story was going). No, that I am constantly trying to gather numbers to support my worth and growth.
I obsess over:
How many clients I see a week.
How much money did I make seeing said clients.
How many views did my blog get.
How many papers did I grade.
How many likes did my Instagram post get.
How much weight have I lost.
How many inches.
Gather, gather, crunch, crunch, gather. Data. Data. Data. Data. Proof. Proof. Proof.
And, shockingly, it's never enough.
Cognitively, I know I could sit there and say, "I saw 522 clients today, made a najillion dollars, my blog and Instagram broke the internet with all my attention, and I lost 100 lbs," and still not feel good enough. Emotionally, I feel crippled by my imagined failure because the numbers just don't seem to say otherwise and I believe if I could just. get. one. more. I'd be able to rest in the knowledge that I'm enough.
I'm bruised and battered by my need to prove my value, my contribution, my goodness. I cut myself up with my scrambling to gather the data, and then rub lemon juice in the cuts with my mental agony when there just isn't enough proof.
It'd be nice to end this on a note of - "but it's okay e'rybody, value isn't quantifiable, it's qualitative and I'm a delightful human being." But, I'm not Barney (which would also be cool if that's where this post was heading), or any other childhood cheerleader. I'm a person, a person who struggles to know my inherent worth. A struggle many other's can relate to.
If you are feeling like I do, know that you are not alone. I'm sitting there in the mud with you, thinking, well hell, I won't ever be able to clean up enough.
But we will. We're delightful. And if I have to go all purple dinosaur on you and myself to be heard, I guess that is where this post is heading.
Oh! Unexpected twist. Go be awesome. Because you are. And so am I, numbers be damned. I, mean, I can spell quantifiable in one try.