3 minute read
I woke up to
from amuse - four22
by Jim Clark
iwokeUPto comparision by Lucinda Christian Bunn
I woke up at 3:51 the other morning to the shit talk going on in my head.
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The night before, I had seen the latest issue of amuse magazine. The issue’s theme was about being women and how we own our power. Asked to contribute a piece, I was excited and up for the task. I worked hard to put a long lifetime into 350 words and was proud of my finished work.
That is, until I saw it next to the others and their stories of strength and power.
I abandoned myself and quickly went into comparison mode.” She is more articulate. I look so old in my photos. Look at her beautiful art. AND she is a good writer too!?!” I have had great success in recent times NOT going into judgment of myself or others. But if left to snowball, and I am critical or jealous of me and others, “they have ‘it’ Lucinda, you don’t” is the driving force within. That never ends well. There's always someone better at “it” - someone more skilled, someone smarter, someone richer, someone prettier, someone younger, someone more successful. This reaction was painful. A red flag that I was in trouble.
That critical voice wants to keep my life small. “Let’s just stay home. Watch Netflix. That way, no one can hurt us.” It prefers safety and isolation to connection and life. It is terrified that if I leave it behind, it will no longer exist. And at times, it has wanted to take me out-for good. And without buying me dinner first.
Somewhere in my youth and childhood, I received a
master’s degree in hating myself. I am the youngest in a family of five gifted, creative people. A father, successful in show business, a mother successful in fashion, two show business/journalist siblings with 6 Emmys and a Peabody between them. And I spent two thirds of my life internalizing the notion that they had all the talent and I had none.
The truth was, I had a lot of mental health challenges. This is what I told myself. “Hey, look at this! You can be good at being sick. The only cost of tuition is to practice believing that you are damaged goods, destined to someday live in your car. You got this!”
This is how I shut down the shit talk in my head that morning, speaking these words intentionally and out loud to myself. “Lucinda, that woman who is such a gifted artist and writer, sharing her story of the work she does is not you. She is more practiced at expressing her gifts. It will never help you to compare yourself to others. Comparison being the thief of joy has never been truer and in your case, nothing but harmful.”
“So, let's compare you to you. 4 years ago, you started to write your story. You didn’t trust yourself to go back to it and yet, here you sit, with 60,000 words and more to come. You were intimidated by a $2 16 x 20 blank canvas and today, you have dozens of big, happy paintings filled with brightly colored images. Those came from you, Lucinda - because you did not give up, because you're tenacious, because you're brave, because you're working on not caring what others think, because you're allowing your makers’ gifts to come through you”.
It worked. I got out of bed, feeling as if a mother had held me and consoled me. And what could have snowballed into a very dreary day, became one filled with hopeful anticipation, ambition and much gratitude. Oh, and I jotted down this little note to Comparison, and dropped it off at the post office first thing:
“Dear Comparison/thief of Joy,
Get the F**K Out of My House. Love, Lucinda”
