It’s been a while since I felt like I was really good at something.
Growing up playing soccer, I always felt like I was contributing to something. I loved the leadership role I took on because I loved being able to help people be better, feel better and the sense of accomplishment I felt whenever we reached success of any kind, regardless of whether we won or lost.
I can’t help but feel like I lost that sense of pride and achievement.
For those of you who know me well, you know about this little job I had in high school. A job that I poured my absolute heart and soul into - no pun intended.
I worked at a shop called Ladle of Love. There, I ladled soup with lots and lots of love. It was the perfect job for me and if I could make a solid living for my future husband and four children off of ladling soup, I would. In a heartbeat.
Within the first few months of me working there, I raked in the most tips out of any employee. I had weekly regulars who I learned by name and by order. I started to become the go-to when they needed someone to pick up shifts or do anything. I even started to learn how to cook to help out with orders. After the year and a half I spent working there, customers were bringing me flowers for my birthday and regularly asking me about my senior activities and college.
I felt acknowledged and wanted and like I said before, like I was really making a contribution somewhere.
Eventually, they asked if I wanted to hostess at the restaurant next door. I was hesitant at first but they knew and I knew deep down that I was the girl for the job. Although I was the youngest by far working at both those places, every time I went to work I felt like so much more than a high school junior or senior. I was treated like an adult and had expectations of an adult professional.
Ever since I could remember, I’ve always held very high expectations of myself. I don’t want to call myself a perfectionist, because that sounds very intense. But, I didn’t like to lose games knowing I messed up or my team didn’t do their best, and I don’t like to accomplish things that aren’t “great” in my eyes.
Everybody messes up. It’s just the way it is. Whether it was me mistaking the truffle parsnip soup for the potato leek, overbooking with reservations or something else, making mistakes is something that everybody does. But it’s something that I don’t like to do. It’s something that I’m not used to doing all the time and now that I find myself making them I don’t know how to handle the aftermath.
I find myself now second guessing everything I do and think and say. Like whatever I’m doing isn’t good enough already and I panic. Right when I’m done fixating over something I did a week before for about two days, my mind clears up for a few hours and then I find something else to worry about. It’s a never-ending cycle that I haven’t been able to put a stop to. Similar to the cycle of never-ending requests for Matzah Ball soup that were never truly answered. Sorry folks. It was out of my control.
Admittedly, I had a love-hate relationship with the jobs. There were times where I felt like things weren’t being done right or fairly, resulting in me not wanting to go. I had complaints, just like everyone else. But looking back on it, it was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Soccer too. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about playing, or my old teams and teammates. A part of me even regrets not pursuing it in college.
I wish I could go back to ladling soup and making conversation with strangers, and leading a team and not to mention, being in shape.
Much simpler times.
