On The Importance of Self-Denial

It’s been a heck of a summer — full of triumphs and tragedies— and I created them all. I have been challenged by not honoring who I am. I can say that a great deal of my challenge has been overextending myself. I run in so many directions. I see the opportunity to participate or contribute and I am ready to do it today. When I do this, my schedule and the people on it all pay the price. I overbook, double book, over-promise, and overtax my brain. From here forward, I am saying, enough. I give. “Uncle.” I vow to find a way to put order to my chaos, without diminishing my creativity.

I realized that’s been the crux of my issue up to this point. Order equals boring, chaos equals creativity — at least that’s what I thought. I have felt the frenetic need to continually create something new, something different, continually striving to be the most amazing me. There is a great deal of expectation involved with being amazing all of the time. Periodically, the rocket runs out of fuel, or a bulb goes out on your spotlight at the worst time possible. (Then again, when is it ever a good time to run out of gas?)

Every creative person you see portrayed on film is usually in chaos; people running around screaming, firing people, generally creating havoc. Then when you see the true masters, they’re always surrounded by serenity. When you watch Annie Leibovitz on set, it’s peaceful, harmonious, relaxed. This is why she got to photograph The Queen. I experienced that same serenity backstage with fashion greats Bill Blass, Oscar de la Renta, and Ralph Rucci. Instead of a whirling dervish of creativity, they were all serene, calm, and sure. In fact, they were considerably more exacting when they slowed down.

When people would marvel at my stamina, I never understood what they were talking about. I’m used to being continually in motion. Then it happened: I slowed down and all of the stuff in motion behind me came crashing down on my head. The pace I was striving to keep was artificial at best and catastrophic at worst. I needed to slow down and take a knee.

Then a quiet voice in the back said, “What’s your hurry? You are who you say you are. If you need to take time for yourself, that’s okay.” In case you couldn’t guess, the voice is my wusband. Just kidding. Though she did say something similar a couple of times, she was really only repeating the voice inside me all along.

Once I actually slowed down to experience other parts of my life, it was a challenge getting back to the things I had to do. It was my time away from the schedule of perpetual motion that made me realize I was a slave to it. The funny thing is, I’m the one who created it and I’m the only one who can change it.

If I am to become a master at being me, I must learn to master saying no to me. I must be honest with myself about how much work I really want to put into a project. I must only promise what I know I can deliver. I must pay attention to the warning signs that I’m asking too much of myself, of my marriage, of my schedule. I will be calmer, more serene. Just call me the Socialite Master.