Wiggling out
There are times when I have been perceived as being too intense because I believe this to be true:
If you aren’t consistently committed and accountable with your personal growth work, you’re not really doing personal growth work. Not really-really.
This is taken as a judgment when I intend it as a fact, as simple as 2 + 2 = 4, and then people get upset. (It is worth noting that when someone’s take on a topic upsets you, there’s more for you to look at than for them to look at. I’m just a random stranger on the internet, after all).
As with so many things, this idea came about because of learning the profound lesson that I was constantly “wiggling out” on my growth and therefore myself. I was constantly looking for the back door escapes. I could justify anything. I pretended My aggression isn’t as bad as so-and-so’s aggression. I told myself that Since they started it, they deserved the mouthful they got from me. I dipped into drama and then complained about why there was drama. I was inconsistent with the things I needed to do for my physical health—which absolutely supports mental health—and then played the victim about my physical health being subpar.
We can use all of the “I” statements that we want. We can say all of the right things. We can use calm, measured tones.
The real question, however, is what’s in our hearts.
I’ve observed a cultural shift over the past twenty years or so where being honest about places where we are not committed or accountable has become “not nice.”
If a friend tells you that they are committed to a big dream, then later tells you that they didn’t follow through, it’s “not nice” to talk to them about why they didn’t follow through. “Being nice” equals telling them, “Well, you gave it your best shot” (even when they didn’t).
There is, of course, going too far in the other direction—no one wants to have unsolicited feedback thrown in their face. No one wants to be criticized.
With each passing decade of my life, I’ve stepped more and more into seeking the people who occupy the middle place.
The middle place means no wiggling out. No excuses. No justifications.
No unkindness to the self or others, either.
The middle place means that because you’re not “wiggling out” on your commitments to yourself, you’re able to say, “You know, I told myself I was going to do X and then I didn’t. That’s not okay with me, because my personal standards are higher than that. I’m going to change that by doing ABC.”
The middle place means friendships where, if you don’t follow through on what you said you would, a friend can ask you with genuine curiosity and support, “What do you think that resistance was about, for you?” and you don’t chafe because your friend called it resistance, is naming it, is asking about it. (Also, you don’t do any of that cowardly ghosting stuff because you were uncomfortable; you have the conversation if you feel like your friend took it too far or if you worry that they don’t really support you).
The middle place is more courageous. It’s more messy and nuanced. It’s harder to occupy. All of us want our egos soothed. All of us wish that we could only ever receive approval.
Yet the middle place is also more human. When we stop wiggling out on our lives and what we are about, we have to face the places where we miss the mark AND we get to acknowledge the places where we’re truly exceptional. We get to feel proud because we genuinely know that we’re giving our lives our all.
No one is perfect. Everyone wiggles out somewhere. I still find those places in myself.
The difference is in the commitment to noticing where you’re wiggling out and to stop letting yourself off the hook—with gentleness. We can “call a thing, a thing” (Iyanla VanZant) and tell the truth about ourselves and the quality of our lives and where our choices contribute (or detract) from how we live, without being unkind to ourselves. We can also tell these truths without pretending that we’re doing better than we are.
No wiggling out. It’s a radical way to live.