An Open Letter to Overachievers

Dear Overachiever,

I get it. You want to do all the things all at once. You get excited about them, and you want to make them happen. All of them. Now.

And then when you can’t, you’re disappointed. And you think that makes you a disappointment. A failure. Worthless.

Two weeks ago I watched a Ted Talk about doing care tasks when you’re depressed. I honestly wasn’t sure how much I’d get out of it, simply because I’ve known for a long time that my depression gets worse when my house is dirty and the laundry is piled up—so at home care tasks are a high priority for me, and when I can’t handle them, I have an incredible husband and five minions who recognize that it’s a sanity issue for me. Admittedly, the five minions are also really effective at trashing the house in the first place, but that’s another story.

Anyway, so I’m watching this video, and the speaker says one simple line that just hammers itself into my head: “Care tasks are morally neutral.” At first, I thought: well, sure. I don’t assume that messy people are bad people. I just assume that they have different priorities—which is their prerogative.

But the more I thought about it, the more I asked myself if I assigned moral value to care tasks for myself. As in, am I a bad person if I don’t keep up with the laundry? Not: is someone else a bad person? And again I recognized that wasn’t really something I was doing. I didn’t think I was a bad person—I just thought I wasn’t making great choices for myself in that moment.

But soon enough, I realized that while I might not be assigning moral value to care tasks, I sure was assigning them to other things in my life. And the more I turned these thoughts over in my head, the more I found myself making a fresh list of activities and choices that really didn’t have the moral value with which I’d been weighting them. Suddenly, I had a whole new refrain in my head as I went about my day.

Quitting on my run is morally neutral.

Taking a nap is morally neutral.

Hitting snooze is morally neutral.

Not picking up the phone when I don’t have the bandwidth for a conversation is morally neutral.

Putting off a task until tomorrow is morally neutral.

Pressing pause on a goal is morally neutral.

Saying “no” or “not right now” or “maybe later” is morally neutral.

None of those things made me a bad person. None of those things made me a good person either.

My mom took this photo of me napping on her back porch this weekend. Taking a nap when I was only in town with my family for three days was still morally neutral.

One of the rules we have in our house regarding tattling is to ask the kids first, “Is it dangerous or destructive?” It really thins out the herd. But it’s also a great way to assess whether or not there is moral value to be assigned to something. The other way to do so is to really think about the words of Mark 12:30-31. Is this decision going to keep me from loving the Lord with my heart, soul, mind, and strength and loving my neighbor as myself? If the answer is no, then it’s morally neutral.

But these choices aren’t always easy ones to make. They require thought. They require purpose. They require slowing down to provide time to assess. It’s easier to just do all the things…until one day you break. Or to do none of the things and totally check out (although, Overachiever, you may not have hit that moment in your life yet).

Anyway, I’m writing this to you at the beginning of a full day. We have piano lessons and laundry to do and guests coming for dinner and a pumpkin to carve and a whole bunch of other things—and the temptation is to look at my To Do list and feel overwhelmed and start to panic that I can’t pull it all off and that I’ll disappoint someone. That I’ll disappoint myself.

But here’s the truth: those items are on my To Do list because they are things that bring me joy. I love hearing my kids play the piano. I love having clean clothes. I love having people in our home. I love having a fun, artistic project to do with the kids. And the list goes on.

And if those things don’t all happen, if things fall through the cracks, it is okay. The pumpkin will still be beautiful, even uncarved. We can serve pizza for dinner. The house is clean enough. The laundry will be there tomorrow. Those things are morally neutral.

But no matter what: my kids will know they are loved. My husband will know he is loved. Our neighbors will be welcomed and cherished.

And my heart (and mind and soul and strength) will have the opportunity to turn back towards Christ again and again and again.

Is it dangerous or destructive? Is it morally neutral? Is it loving?

We have to ask the questions before we can make the choices.

Yours in not doing all the things, yours in allowing room for failure, yours in knowing that what has true value is loving others well (and that includes being loving to myself),

Marian