- Feast countdown = 47
- Past Sunday's craving = Pint and Plate's buffalo chicken sandwich (the one my boyfriend was eating at the time)
- Past Sunday's craving distraction = Packing my life into a Honda Civic
These past few days have simply been a blur of activity and culture shock since my move out to Rolla, Missouri, including my drive of roughly 650 miles in 11 straight hours. After rushing from one errand to the next, I'm finally taking advantage of this brief pause at the campaign headquarters to reflect on my new situation here.
One thing is certain -- whenever I take a risk, I inevitably have a big uh-oh moment afterward where I doubt everything about myself. (Sadly enough, this can even happen after a big shopping splurge, aka serious buyer's remorse.) I faced that same, familiar sinking feeling in my stomach today, after sitting around without much to do for these first couple days. Questions circled: Can I even be helpful here? Will I ever become an integral part of the team? What does it take to do that?
Self-doubt and comparison are big battles for me, and I often give in to them too easily. The only thing I find that loosens their grip on me, though, is remembering the simple goal for my life: serving other people in a meaningful, selfless way. This idea forces me to take the focus off of myself and put it on others, and it roots me again in what's most valuable in life. My constant reminder to put pride and recognition aside.
I think back to the strong women of My Sister's House in Atlanta, who took shelter in order to start over in life, and my memories with them re-emphasize the joy of humble service. Spunky Edith will forever stick out in my mind -- a woman in her mid-fifties who came in off the street and struggled to learn, but broke into a huge smile whenever a lesson clicked. There was also Teresa, the hungry reader who ate up stories about Rapunzel and Sojourner Truth, and whose eyes lit up when she saw you across the room. Catherine was the jokester of the group -- also very clever -- and Vicki poured herself into her lessons with unrivaled dedication and intensity.
No amount of prestige or public praise can fulfill me like those women did. Now, I face a very different opportunity to serve people through the political process, some of the poorest in the nation, and I'm once again called to swallow my pride. Whether printing labels, putting stamps on postcards, or feeding the campaign dog, I remind myself to do it with a full heart.
Self-doubt and comparison are big battles for me, and I often give in to them too easily. The only thing I find that loosens their grip on me, though, is remembering the simple goal for my life: serving other people in a meaningful, selfless way. This idea forces me to take the focus off of myself and put it on others, and it roots me again in what's most valuable in life. My constant reminder to put pride and recognition aside.
I think back to the strong women of My Sister's House in Atlanta, who took shelter in order to start over in life, and my memories with them re-emphasize the joy of humble service. Spunky Edith will forever stick out in my mind -- a woman in her mid-fifties who came in off the street and struggled to learn, but broke into a huge smile whenever a lesson clicked. There was also Teresa, the hungry reader who ate up stories about Rapunzel and Sojourner Truth, and whose eyes lit up when she saw you across the room. Catherine was the jokester of the group -- also very clever -- and Vicki poured herself into her lessons with unrivaled dedication and intensity.
My ladies at AUM's GED class
No amount of prestige or public praise can fulfill me like those women did. Now, I face a very different opportunity to serve people through the political process, some of the poorest in the nation, and I'm once again called to swallow my pride. Whether printing labels, putting stamps on postcards, or feeding the campaign dog, I remind myself to do it with a full heart.
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