The nerfection of pobody

Learn your limits, them work within them

When I was in high school, my parents told me that I could do anything I put my mind to, except sing. They were right, but that didn’t stop me from singing and recording music.

I joined bands and eventually started one a few years after college. We called ourselves Parkour, an ill-timed choice as the sport was on the verge of entering the mainstream. Its enthusiasts complained on Reddit that our name was misleading and our lo-fi 90s indie rock sound didn’t embody the spirit of their discipline.

They didn’t exactly have positive things to say about my voice either. Unlike my family’s jab, which I took as a challenge, the words of strangers stung. I still think about them.

Parkour was a short-lived venture. We released one EP, played a couple shows, and broke up. One person bought the album, and it was someone who was always there to support a friend. Thank you, Amy.

I didn’t do us any favors either, as I shirked all leadership responsibilities. When the band looked to me for direction, I awkwardly smiled and shrugged my shoulders. I was all too ready to defer to someone else’s opinion, as I believed mine would always be the worst. I assumed I was a disappointment to my bandmates who were merely humoring me until they found the right time to quit.

So, I turned to my de facto defense mechanism of self-deprecation. I downplayed the quality of the music and my abilities. During a show, I pointed out that you only needed two fingers to play the next song. It’s the only thing that elicited a reaction from the crowd which, of course, was laughter.

Anything shy of perfection meant I was an incompetent fool. So, I started forming the weirdest chords, contorting my fingers into uncomfortable positions so that, should anyone look at my hands, they would recognize the complexity. I also began writing convoluted lyrics with obscure references. The hope was that it would override the actual sound of the song and my own negative sentiments.

The problem was my inability to accept both my skills and my limitations. All I saw was negatives and I fed into it, only making it worse. Reddit’s keyboard warriors reinforced those feelings. So, I packed up my guitar and didn’t touch it again for years.

Embracing your imperfections is no easy task, but accepting who you are is a critical step for personal growth. Over four decades of life, I am finally learning — and doing — that. It’s yielding positive results, even if it leaves me bumped and bruised along the way.

A big step was understanding my skillset and learning to work within it. In the past, I would have worked tirelessly to gain the skills needed for any task. It was unreasonable and almost never ended the way I hoped. It left me burnt out, angry, and unfulfilled. Worst of all, it caused more regression than progression.

I never really asked the important question: Who am I?

Someone else; that’s who I was trying to be, anyway. Then, when I’d inadvertently fail, I’d apologize profusely and leave the people around me frustrated and picking up the slack. My bad. I suck. I’m the worst.

Now I’m exhausted, empty, and burdened by my choices. It impacts me, my family, friends, and coworkers too. It’s not all bad, though. I’ve learned to say I can’t, won’t, or don’t want to do this. This breakthrough has taken a lot of weight off my shoulders.

I don’t feel as overwhelmed, angry, or sad. I don’t end each day wanting to cry or hide in my room. My work-life balance is better. Well, it’s all just life now, as I find myself sine opere. That comes with its own set of challenges — like how I will pay bills — but that’s beyond the purview of this piece.

With an utter lack of self-confidence, you feel like you’re the only flawed individual on earth. Everyone else is better than you and they know how worthless you are. As part of the self-revelation of limits, you learn everyone has their imperfections. Nobody’s perfect. Or, as the malapropism goes, pobody’s nerfect.

Maybe I am not Jimi Hendrix, but I can play guitar much better than a lot of people. I don’t have the range of Jeff Buckley, but I’m not tone deaf either. I’m also a competent coder, albeit magnitudes worse than Linus Torvalds.

So, I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. I guess. Really, I just look for any excuse to reference Caddy Shack.

It’s okay to have limitations. Everyone does. Work within your own parameters. Embrace your skills, accept your flaws. I swear it’s okay. It really is. I’m telling that to myself as much as I am to you — especially since I am now unemployed. I’ll make it through. We’ll make it through, as long as we focus on the positives and strive to grow after our setbacks.

Now, if I could just calm down, get out of this funk, and start growing, I’ll be all set.