There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind. —Mr. Rogers
Yesterday my husband and I miscommunicated before I went out to do errands (pick up a prescription for special cat food from the vet, get an allergy shot, get probiotics from Whole Foods, and get a few groceries at Kroger), so that, a couple of hours after I returned home, we realized that we didn’t have the chicken he had been going to cook for dinner. I was sure he’d told me we had chicken in the freezer, and he would get it out to thaw; he thought he’d asked me to buy some. Standing in the kitchen, him too exhausted and brain-fogged from long COVID to drive or think of a dinner alternative and me too stomach-sore and anti-cooking to even entertain the idea of figuring out something to make for dinner, we were at an impasse—and I knew I had to be the one to give. I sighed, grabbed my keys, and headed for the door, but just before I left I turned and said, “You’ve just got to communicate with me.” He said he was sorry, and I said not to worry, and I left.
But, see, this constitutes as close to a fight as we get. I was exhausted—four errands is a LOT for me, and driving even on the edge of a city tires out this country girl—and I really didn’t want to go back out. He had worked a whole day from home, lucky that his boss has been accommodating of his illness, and I knew that the communication mix-up was due to the long COVID. We both knew this about the other, and we both wished we felt better so we could do more to help the other. But nevertheless, we were frustrated. I was frustrated.
As I drove to the store, I thought about what I was really frustrated about. Not my sweet husband’s lack of clarity. Not even his long COVID. It was my own weakness, my own inability to do ordinary things. Nearly every activity requires a cost-benefit analysis—how much will I have to rest if I do X? How much would it cost to pay someone else to do Y, and would it take more energy to set that up than just to do it myself? Is there any chance I will be able to think clearly enough this evening to do some writing, or to respond to the poems written by talented folks taking my informal classes?
Unfortunately, I can very easily fall down the slippery slope from problem to catastrophe, and soon I was dwelling on how my ME/CFS was contributing to me living what I felt was a small life. Because of ME/CFS and the depression I had in connection with it (you can see my recent piece about that issue here), I had an excuse for what I felt was my lack of success in the world. I was nowhere near what I wanted to be in my middle 50s. I wanted to be a tenured professor somewhere, preferably in a medium-sized college town that was more liberal than the rural areas around it might suggest. I wanted to be an expert on some topic, asked to do the occasional interview on a podcast or comment on a news story, to be known for my intelligence and expertise. I wanted my students to go out into the world knowing that they mattered, that their thoughts and ideas and experiences mattered. I wanted colleagues.
Instead, I live on the edge of a city in a Southern state where I don’t know anyone except my dog park acquaintances, and where the values I see around me on a daily basis do not match my own. It’s the worst season for me right now, a summer so punishing that I can only go outside for more than five minutes at a time in the very early morning; I get up at 5:45 so I can walk the dogs before it’s too hot for me, and even so I’m forcing my rebellious legs to move for the last 1/3 of the walk. I’m dependent on my husband for both income and health insurance.
I held in my tears until I was in the car on the way back home, feeling helpless, valueless, and whiny all at once. Once home, I sat with my sweet, always-happy-to-cuddle dog Duncan, and googled, “I have wasted my life.” Sure, the James Wright poem occurred to me, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. Finally I came across a site that offered some concrete suggestions, one of which was to re-watch Mr. Rogers, because he consistently shared the message that every person matters. And I did watch some pieces of the show, struck by how calm and kind he was, and also by how slow-paced and open-ended the show was. It took me back to childhood, and it made me aware of the real and metaphorical flashing lights and blaring sounds of life in 2023.
My husband and I apologized to each other again, and ate a sheet pan dinner of chicken with broccoli, carrots, onions, and potatoes while watching Vera, a strangely addictive British police drama. Gradually a sense of context and proportion came back to me, and while there are still things I want—to move to a place I like and where I have friends and/or family, and to contribute financially to the household in a way that’s still meaningful to me—I’m remembering this Alan Watts quote: The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves. And, of course, the gorgeous Mr. Rogers quote at the beginning of this post.
Perhaps we can all practice being kind to ourselves as well as to others, whether we’re big or small, healthy or struggling, old or young, financially rewarded for what we do or not. The small, everyday parts of our lives have meaning—a nap with a beloved pet, a couple of cherry tomatoes picked on your own patio, a supportive text message from a friend, a hug from the one person within 400 miles who loves you. Not having everything you want, or being everything you expected to be, does not mean you’re doing life wrong, regardless of what the self-improvement folks say. We’re doing just fine.
Katie, this essay resonated deeply with me. I have been feeling similarly after receiving an ADHD diagnosis recently and generally not feeling like I am where I want to be in my life or career.
"It took me back to childhood, and it made me aware of the real and metaphorical flashing lights and blaring sounds of life in 2023." This is so true. I think the result of living in a capitalist productivity obsessed culture where we can constantly compare ourselves to others is making us sick in so many ways.
Also, I love that Alan Watts quote. I'll be keeping it near me during these difficult times.. <3 take good care
Thank you for this important reminder! This resonated with me.