I think I hit my ceiling

Photo by Lance Reis on Unsplash

Right now, I’m in a women-only tech program for front end web development and coding. At first, I could have burst with excitement, but I think I’m at capacity — , and that’s okay.

Must we always strive for “the best” when small increments of better are enough?

Here’s an epiphany I had when my neurodivergent brain nearly melted in my coding class:

I’m starting to feel rushed in this process… and “ion like det.” (Shout out to Yung Miami.) When I was in grade school, I was always being rushed and put on high alert. I never had the safety net to go at my own pace. I was always trying to avoid getting left behind. (I guess most of my teachers called out sick when George Bush gave his “No Child Left Behind” speech.)

If completing only some of the assignments and giving myself space to process new information as slowly as I need to, is what will allow me to take the scenic route with my learning, then so be it. I’m more than okay with that. Learning at a pace that works with my brain and not against it, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me. In fact, it’s the cornerstone of learning how to succeed with ADHD.

When I first entered the program, my only goal was to gain skills and grow as a person. Honestly, I’m doing pretty well with that. “A+” apple pies for everyone. Small wins deserve celebration.

I was never meant to put my foot on the gas with everything I do. I work slowly, at my own pace, and I like being in a relaxed state. My nervous system used to feel like a boat race in my childhood. Now, I’m choosing to slow the f*ck down and gently remind myself that,“My best is good. My best is great. Gentle. Gentle.”

I don’t have to master everything in a day. If I improve just 1% better everyday, that’s huge. You know what? Hell yeah. Productivity shouldn’t measure passion or creativity.

I choose to radically accept that my best won’t always show up[ as pushing myself to the max, squeezing every last drop of productivity out of me until I’m ready to be poured over ice. Even in my creative pursuits, I’m starting to feel pressure. I just want to vibe with my learning, Man. ENOUGH.

When productivity is reduced to a measure stick, the joy of learning bungee jumps out the window. People should be highlighted for their unique attributes more than what they fit on a scale. Nobody can do what I do the way I do it.

Does it always have to be this hard just to achieve something great?

My dyscalculic can see the writing jumping all over the wall, “I am here to learn calmly and without parameters. No measure sticks. No expectations.”

Although I’m incredibly talented, I’m a lot like a classic old-school record. Every time you put it on, it creates an out of this world irreplicable moment— but if you keep playing it over and over, eventually the record scratches.

This reminds me of the time when I played The Cheetah Girls movie at least 50 times in a row, maybe more, on my grandpa’s VCR (not kidding). You know what happened once I hit the magic number?? The video tape melted into the VCR.

From that experience I learned two things:

1). Even absolute passion can burn out if you don’t pace yourself. Take your time. Don’t let people rush your process.

2). Thank goodness I didn’t overplay that tape in my own VCR.

Moral of the story: No matter the expectations the world may have of me, that doesn’t dictate my purpose, passion, or pacing. I’m not letting anybody melt me.

-Handwritten in purple crayon