Late at night, when I paint my nails and catch up with messages I didn’t get to during the day I get to sit back and marvel at how incredible the people I surround myself with are. The people I cheer on, on a daily basis.
I have the man who not only survived but now thrives after years of suffering.
I have the woman who lost everything and built it up again when life went to shit.
I have the woman with too many degrees to count who just landed the dream job that will make major waves very soon.
I have the guy who continues to see when he was told it would be blind.
I have the man who buried more than half his family but continues to see the importance of close family every day.
I have the mother I look up to who stopped working to raise her boys.
I have the mom who continues to work to support her growing family.
I have the brothers who challenge me on everything I know, and I love it.
The guy who wrote a magnificent novel.
I have the sister who survives no matter what life hurls at her.
I have the brother who is doing his PhD
And the woman who found her calling and knows she is without a doubt, the best at what she does.
Such easy people to cheer on.
I tick none of these boxes and that is perfectly fine. I am not the best at what I do. I make mistakes all the time. Just today I nagged my boss to get something done only to realise at the last minute I got the date wrong and the deadline was on the 6th of July and not June. I am the first to be open about making mistakes. My job(s) are difficult to explain to friends, mostly because they lose interest halfway through. I have a friend who knows unequivocally that she is the best at what she does for a living and she is on the brink of something that will propel her into a whole new path. I am always in the front row cheering. I didn’t have that when I was younger. I had no one telling me I was doing it right. Nor did I ever feel this way. Just perhaps not being the best at anything is ok. Or at least ok enough for me.
My mother’s life motto is tattooed on my wrist. (Such a 90’s cliche, I know) The “N” on my wrist stands for “nederig” Humble. Maybe being humble is more important than being the best. I will never change the world, I will never make a noticeable difference. I am of no significance what so ever. But perhaps being humble is enough. I tell people, I tell friends, what I wish I heard. Tonight I told someone “Maybe when I am big I will be as successful as you” and I got a “but you are successful though” back. But am I? No one really cares what I do with my time. As long as my work is done and I am respectful towards others, no one really cares what I do. In fact, no one even particularly cares what I write here. I manage quite a bit that I never get credit for. But just maybe that is what sets me apart. I don’t need credit.
I am quite okay with just being average. I am not the best, at anything. But I am rather good at far more than most realise.
Lately, I have been feeling as if I am not allowed to share things I am proud of. I mince my words because it’s frowned upon to be happy about weight loss. I play down achievements because I don’t want to seem boastful. I compliment and cheer rather than sharing small victories. Mostly because lately, I have been feeling as if those who I deem my best friends, don’t want to hear about me doing something great. I am kept around to serve one purpose, to cheer.
If you are reading this and you can picture the face of your biggest cheerleader, make a point of returning the favour today. Cheer THEM on. Ask how their day was. Ask about their average jobs. Ask about their average dreams. For one day you will look back and remember the first person who believed in you. You supported your passion. The one who paid for your service and bought your art or helped you pay the rent that one month when it all went to shit.
I am not the best at anything.
I am “not-too-bad” at most things. I am a good cheerleader.
Be kind to your cheerleaders. Occasionally they need cheering up too.