The number one thing I struggle with in life is consistency. It’s so hard to commit to doing something, and then actually do it, and then actually do it over and over and over again for a long time. My sister and I talk about how we think it’s in our genes. Our dad’s side of the family has a problem with inertia, specifically the idea that things at rest tend to stay at rest, and that’s part of it. The other part of it, I suspect, is the way we’ve been raised, conditioned, and taught as women. As Italian women. As good Italian girls. Good Italian Girls make other people happy. They do things for their friends, their families, their husbands, their kids. They put everyone else first. They are only as good as the last thing they did for someone they love. You might be reading this and find yourself thinking, “well, what’s wrong with that?” and I will tell you.
The problem with this way of thinking is that in this model self worth doesn’t come from the self. It comes from others. Throughout my life the only way I could feel accomplished, productive, good even, was when I was helping, solving, doing for others. This was true in my home, at school, and later, at work. I’m a great right hand man, a great number two. I thrive when I have someone watching me, holding me accountable, who I know will be disappointed if I don’t deliver. And for them I always deliver. Unfortunately I’m unable to provide that service to myself. Can you? I guess I’m not a self starter. Being a self starter means being able to stand still and then suddenly sprint—without the bang of a starter pistol. I hate running.
When I think no one is looking I let myself be lazy, but I’m ashamed to admit it, try to hide it, and then hate myself for it. Rest is for the weak, naps are for sinners. Surely, there’s a meal to be cooked, laundry to be folded, a bed to be made? There’s always a chore to be done if you look hard enough. There’s always a way to please if you need there to be. It’s an exhausting existence.
I’m working on it, though. My husband has helped, although I admit doing things for him still makes me feel annoyingly accomplished, his needs subconsciously rising to the top of my to-do list. But that’s not his fault, it’s mine. I’m still a Good Italian Girl, even after all these years. Becoming a writer has helped, too. A freelance writing career means looking into the mirror every day because there’s no one else to look at. And unfortunately for me, no one’s looking at you either. It can be lonely, if you let it. This newsletter also helped for a while. The pride I felt getting it off the ground and sending out my first six installments was a high that’s hard to describe unless you are a (recovering) die-hard people pleaser like I am (was). But that damn inertia hits when you least expect it and suddenly it’s been months and the task multiplies in size in your brain in a way that makes it seem impossible and daunting. That’s what happened to me. That’s where I’ve been until today. But here I am.
The funny thing about inertia though, is that you never know what will get you moving again. Today, for me, it was reading a newsletter written by a friend and member of my writing group, Stephanie Perez-Gurri. She is a brilliant writer always, but there was something about what she wrote today that made everything in my body move. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion. My fingers are moving now. I’m here, for myself.
xx
Cris, your older sister
P.S. Benvenuto to all the new faces around here! This newsletter is my first in a while, and also my first on Substack. It’s also shorter, and less bossy than usual. Consider this installment, Lucky Number 7, an ice breaker. Feels good to be back.
P.P.S. Because I am a bit of a luddite, I cannot figure out how to import my old newsletters from Squarespace. If you are interested in catching up, here are the six that came before.
P.P.P.S. Julie Gallagher is also a member of my writing group and is also a brilliant writer. Last week she re-published an essay from 2020 in her newsletter, Weightless, that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s a master class on description, thread, theme, and connecting the dots within our mundane rituals to the bigger picture.
I'm so happy you wrote today. It made my day better :)
Thank goodness for my older (younger) sister!