Based on my own reading, it appears that neuroscience community generally agrees that the human brain develops more rapidly in the first three years of life than it does at any other point in the span of a human life.
That makes sense to me. A lot happens in the first three years of life, I’m watching my son go through that stage now. At 4 lbs, 14 oz, physically, there wasn’t a lot there when he was born.
Without responsible, loving adults there to care for him after his birth, how long would he have survived on his own? Minutes, hours, days? I’m not sure, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that his chances of survival wouldn’t have been very good if that was the situation he was handed at birth. He basically lived on his mom for the first three months of his life, he was stuck to her, like Siamese twins with 37 years between them.
Fast forward to today, at 2 1/2 years old, he’s Mr. Independent. He’s advanced from being a little blob of human flesh that was glued to his mom for the purpose of sheer survival to this laughing, babbling, running, jumping, yelling, crying little human that will throw a fit if you dare turn that doorknob and open the door for him, because that’s his job this week, so back off Dad.
He tells us he loves us all the time, that he’s hungry, that he’s tired, that he’s frustrated, that he’s happy. Tonight as I was reading him a story before bed, he interrupted me, looked me dead in the eyes and said, “how was your day?”
And I melted right there. Unless you are the Tin Man, you would have melted too, I think.
My point is, a lot happens in those first three years. Witnessing this growth firsthand has produced inside of me every feeling and emotion known to man, from darkest to most lighthearted, in no particular order.
But I’ve been faced with a question, and I can’t pinpoint exactly when this really became an idea for me, but I can’t ignore it because it’s biting at my ankles like red ants when you stand on top of their nest and don’t realize it until they’ve crawled up your legs and started waging war on your skin with their tiny little jaws. And if you don’t get the ants off while their only biting your ankles, eventually, they’ll be biting that area just below your belt. Uncomfortable.
What am I doing here anyway?
You were a newborn baby once. So was I. We all were. We started as these physically helpless little organisms, and evolved our way up through childhood, into adolescence and then arrived at this thing called adulthood. For me, the big milestone when I arrived at adulthood was that I was allowed to legally get drunk, and I did get drunk, a lot!
A lot of other things happened too though. I excelled at a career that I chose, I made some forever friends, I fell in and out of love several times, bought a bunch of stuff that I thought made me happy, got into some trouble, got out of some trouble, sold some of the stuff that I thought made me happy. Basically, there was no real plan or purpose, I was just doing. There was always going to be time to make a plan later. What are we planning for anyway?
Now I’m 35 years old, I’m still in good shape, but I feel those aches and pains now that are catching up from a past where I was convinced that I could do no harm to myself and nothing would ever catch up to me. My knees are unpredictably sore and the doctors can’t tell me why, there are no visible signs of damage there. I argue with my spouse sometimes. I’ve got debt and things that stress me out and throw me into what I can only describe as violent bouts of anxiety. I don’t mean I get physically violent, I mean it feels like my stomach is trying to eject itself out of my body through my throat and I don’t want to be anywhere right now but in bed.
But where did all those prior years go, and what was I doing with them? I mean, did I really make them count? Did I know my purpose? Was I doing anything purposeful at all, or was I just filling time? What am I doing here anyway?
I’ve had many influences in my life, and I’ll no doubt have many more. But my son, by far has really been the biggest reason for me to ask, am I being purposeful? What legacy will I leave behind when I’m long gone and my body is turned to dust? And how come I can’t just have one big aha moment where all the answers are revealed to me in some epic cloud of sparkles and confetti, where I ride out on a fucking Unicorn, completely forgiven for the wrongs I’ve done people, with all of the answers to life’s toughest questions so that I can save myself and everyone else around me whether they need it or not?
From the birth of my son, the urgency to grow up to be the best version of myself truly emerged out of the chaos of life. I don’t mean to use the word chaos in a negative connotation, only as a representation of the unpredictability that can occur in our lives. You win some, you lose some. Sometimes you meet the love of your life in a bar, and that’s a nice thing. But some day your mom is going to die, and that’s not a nice thing, even if you didn’t like her that much, there will likely be unpleasantness to face. But you can bet your ass that these are things that are outside of what you can control, and they will alter your course forever, whether you realize it or not.
Here’s the thing that I’ve learned about myself so far. I have a long list of ideas about what I want my life to look like when I grow up. Out of the strong desire to create positive change in my life, or in other words, to feel more purposeful, I’ve discovered just how resistant I am to the changes that I’m trying to implement in my own life. I’m inconsistent. In fact, I’ve discovered that I’m an addict. I’m addicted to what’s familiar. Familiar makes me feel comfortable because it’s predictable. Predictable means that there’s very little chance for failure. Not failing means that that i’ll always feel good, right? What does feeling good mean anyway? And I don’t feel good all the time, I couldn’t fool myself if I tried. What kind of greatness could lie on the other side of failure, beyond the smoke, the unpleasantness, and the uncertainty? What potential lies within me, I mean, what am I, really?
What potential lies in all of us if we stripped away what we “should” be doing and allowed ourselves to be vulnerable enough to pursue what we want to be doing? What if money didn’t exist and there was no duty to make sure the car payments get made every month on the 15th, and the mortgage every gets paid every second Friday. What if bankruptcy didn’t exist and there was no chance that pursuing your true purpose might leave you broke and living in a van down by the river? By the way, I also realize that for some people, living in a van down by the river is the dream. I’ve thought about it for myself…
This growth thing, it’s more than just reading books and understanding theory. It’s about awareness, about choosing carefully what to hold onto and what to let go of, not just things, but people also. It’s about belief and getting out of my own way. It’s about taking action, and making adjustments, and having small victories, and sometimes, being so overwhelmed that I can’t do anything at all except get through the day. And that’s progress to me, which is better than accepting that what I am today is all I am, and all I will ever be, because I dream of so much more for myself.
It’s hard getting out of my own way, but that’s what I’m doing here, sometimes slowly, sometimes with great pain, and sometimes, with great ease, I’m getting out of my own way, because I’m the only one that can stop me from being great.
What if we all just got out of our own way? Imagine that…