There's Nothing to Prove - angiemizzell.com

On Monday morning, I made my coffee, lit a candle, and settled on the sofa while the house was still quiet. It was my mom’s birthday, and I wanted to begin the day by taking a moment to remember her.

At some point, I realized she would’ve been 70. I’m not sure what thoughts led me there, to doing the math. It was the first time it occurred to me that this would’ve been a milestone year for her. I suppose it’s because in my mind she’ll always be 68, the age that she was when she died.

She was only 18 years older than me, but she would’ve lamented the number—70—I’m sure, because she always lamented the number. And I would’ve stressed myself out trying to plan a celebration that would feel like enough to show her how much she was loved.

Most of my life, I watched her wrestle to believe her own worth. There was nothing I could do to fix or change the situation or help her in her struggle, and yet I never stopped wishing that I could.

The irony is that she worked hard to instill a sense of confidence and self-worth within me. She pushed me to have a better life, and for a long time, I believed I’d find it inside my success.

I write about our complex dynamic in my memoir. Here’s a line from Girl in the Spotlight:

“Perhaps she never realized that all I ever wanted was to feel at home inside my own life.”

But recently, I had a revelation: When I left TV news, the decision I made wasn’t as significant as the realization. The decision changed my circumstances and the trajectory of my career. But it was the realization—a few key shifts in my perspective that helped me make that decision—that actually changed my life:

• Changing direction isn’t a failure. I don’t have to stay the course to prove myself—or prove a point—to anyone.

• I don’t have to perform anymore. I can lean into what feels true to me and move in that direction.

• My self-worth isn’t in question. My worthiness remains intact. My life will be meaningful either way.

Something I also realize now, in the story of my mom’s life, is that a main takeaway isn’t that she struggled to believe in her own self-worth, but that she was brave and real enough to be so honest about it.

Even today, as a woman who’s at least halfway through her own life, I still have to remind myself that I don’t have to perform, prove, “turn on,” to have love and connection. Walking away from a career in the spotlight didn’t cure me of that tendency; it simply made me more aware of it. I’m so much better at catching myself in the act now than I was when I was younger.

Mom often felt alone in her struggle, but I know, from my own experience hustling to prove my worth, that she wasn’t.

I don’t know the direct path to convincing our internal non-believer that we are worthy, but I have a hunch that it’s connected to living: We give ourselves permission to live, and then we go do it.

We pay attention to how that feels, and now we have a reference point, something to return to when we’re in doubt.