When I was in Grade Five, overwhelmed by the combined influence of too many Sweet Valley High and Cheerleaders books, I solemnly inscribed on the first page of a notebook "My Self-Improvement Plan." I can't remember exactly what I felt needed improvement, but the impetus behind this would-be makeover was the sense that I was not peforming to my full potential and that getting to wherever that level of perfection lay was a) attainable and b) up to me.
The short-lived experiment (so short I don't even remember writing more than the first page) was only the first of many similar attempts to better myself. I've made countless promises to myself that I will eat better, exercise more, pray more, be more spiritual, stop being so fearful, etc. etc. etc.
I'm not sure why I feel so compelled to change myself. Perhaps that is another post. What I do know is that, for as long as I can remember, I have felt myself to be unruly and out of control and desperately in need of some sort of channeling, some shaping, some, well, discipline.
And so, it is not entirely unusual that I've been involved in three separate projects as of late. The first was my commitment three months ago to read the entire Bible in a year.
The second was during the season of Lent, where I committed to giving up allowing myself the taking out of my anger/anxiety on my husband and kids (I know, I know, giving up chocolate or coffee would have been easier, but I figured that if I was going to give up a vice, I might as well give up something that was already harming others rather than something would actually lead to me harming them because I was going through caffeine withdrawal.)
Finally, having realized that my approach of "everything in moderation" towards food had somehow lost the "in moderation" part and that none of my clothes fit, I attempted to follow a rigorous (for me) eating plan for two weeks.
Well.
I can claim only partial success. I am still reading my Bible in sporadic yet marathon-like spurts, but I am behind (I'll be caught up by the end of this month, I keep declaring). I reduced my yelling at the kids, but alas, it was not a harpy-free Lent season. I made it for about 8 days on the two-week diet, but succumbed to a few treats thereafter and limped across the finish line to some Extra Butter Flavour popcorn and a Sleeman's Honey Brown.
These un-successes - let's not call them "failures" - have brought me to the following realizations about self-discipline:
1) The mere practice of self-control is a good thing. At best, we learn to deny our most selfish impulses with intention while we are strong with the heady rush of novelty and promise, and then, hopefully, more automatically once our energy begins to lag. At worst, we learn the strength of those impulses, which provides necessary knowledge for the next time we try to get a handle on them.
2) Success requires an endless, monotonous fighting of the same battle over and over again. Just because you were able to say "no" to sleeping in and missing Bible reading today does not guarantee a similar result tomorrow.
3) Days, weeks, and even months of hard work can be demolished with unbelievable ease. All it takes (for me at least) is the tiniest thought that *maybe* I don't have to keep my commitment just this once and - WHAM - it's over.
4) Think staying on course is hard? Try getting back on once you've strayed. Before I ate that Chinese food, I could at least tell myself that all my hard work had kept me cheat-free. After? Not only had I lost my pride in my accomplishment, but I also had the knowledge of *exactly* how hard getting back to that point would be.
These exercises in self-restraint have given me new empathy for those who stray from commitments and profound respect for those who stray and then return. It is incredibly easy to make a vow; it is quite difficult to keep it; and it is nigh unto impossible to make it, break it, and then pick yourself up from the depths to which you have fallen, dust yourself off, and try again.
Yet I still persist in doing just that, even if it means only a chapter here and there, only a minute or two of biting my tongue before speaking sharply, or only a day of choosing an apple instead of chocolate. I may never consider myself "improved," but there is much to be said for acknowledging one's weaknesses and strengthening one's resolve, if only until the next time.
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