Patio Pondering: Better Than Before
This weekend while watching the USA hockey team win Gold at the Olympics I happened to look at my hands. For most of us that is no big deal, but for me it was a bit different. I have Dupuytren's Contractures on both hands. These are nodules that can lead to ligament contraction and finger deformity.
The significance of my observation was that the nodules were different — better than they were in the past. I remember an annual physical where my physician said they were just part of aging and we would do surgery to fix them if or when needed. That was two years ago.
To satisfy my curiosity I consulted Doctor Google with the prompt "Dupuytren's Contracture Alcohol." The first finding noted that heavy, chronic alcohol consumption is recognized as a significant risk factor for the development and progression of Dupuytren's contracture.
The change between that physical and this weekend was my lack of heavy, chronic alcohol use. The nodules were smaller, no longer dark colored, and more pliable. All good things. Sobriety — check.
This morning while pouring my first cup of coffee I was not excited about the revelation. I was already moving on to the next task like "improve palm nodules" was an item on a checklist to complete. Instead of quiet satisfaction that my body had visibly responded to a hard choice, I was chastising myself for not sticking to my eating plan or exercising enough in preparation for my trip to Philmont with our scout troop this summer.
It was as if none of it was a big deal. Just another thing to do.
How many times in our lives do we accomplish something and then just move on to the next task without a moment to reflect on what we just did? What in our society instills the "That's great, but you need to do more" attitude that prevents us from appropriate celebration of hard-earned victories? I'm not talking about the Participation Mentality where every task gets an atta-boy. I'm talking about genuine milestones being minimized — poo-pooed as expected, dismissed because we have more to do.
When we reserve acknowledgement only for the extraordinary, we teach ourselves — and each other — that ordinary progress doesn't count. But most of what actually moves us forward happens quietly, incrementally, without a podium.
The doers get the praise because we've decided only the dramatic finish line is worth marking. Meanwhile the daily work — the real work — goes unacknowledged until we've forgotten it happened at all.
Notice the small wins. Not because you need the validation. Because the habit of acknowledgement is what keeps you doing the work.