Who is your sandpaper?
Smoothing our roughest traits
“The privilege of loving them humbled me. As they grew, the love wore away some of the more callused spots of my heart: my pride, my selfishness, my insistence on being right. Though I continue to exhibit all these tendencies, their love has been a gentle sandpaper, helping me become who I suspected I was always meant to be.”
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, Everyone But Myself
I’ve just had my first experience reading a memoir written by a friend, and what deeply felt joy it was. Everyone But Myself tells the story of
’s journey through debilitating anxiety and how she learned to carve out more space for herself in a busy life as the mother of two boys and an elementary school librarian. I delighted in seeing the crisp, honest, heartfelt voice I’ve come to know shine through on the page. I cried; I laughed; I related. I highly recommend this book.One line in particular really got me. Julie wrote that as they grew, her boys’ love “wore away some of the more callused spots of my heart,” acting as “a gentle sandpaper.” What I love about this line is that it shows the power of human interaction. It’s not just a question of how to sand ourselves down, but who most helps us do it. The “who” can especially matter when we are stuck in creative work and our callused spots show up in exaggerated ways.
Like Julie’s boys, my daughter has been sandpaper for me since day one. She quiets my nerves and my control freakishness and my self-judgment—all of which show up every time I sit down to write. Part of this is parenting. It’s easier as a parent to find grace around the edges and let the judgment go. It’s easier to separate a toddler from her mistakes or bad behavior. Practicing this letting go and separating every day helps me be better at it with myself.
Another part of this is my daughter’s nature. In her own ways, she is consistently telling me “all is well” and “slow-the-eff-down.” She does things on her own time, and she has a grounded, cuddly, goofy energy about her that has a way of curling the end of even very hard moments into half smiles. Being around her is good for my writing and for my soul.
This last part isn’t so much about parenting; it’s about finding the people in our lives whose energy and traits balance our own. These are our creative complements. They help us practice sanding the places inside us that otherwise catch on the fabric of life and slow us down. I’m thinking here of my mom’s best friend, a big vibrant personality who makes big art and has inspired my mom to play bolder and work with abandon and even swear a little.
This week, let’s find our sandpaper people. Let’s invite them around when we are feeling rough—and thank them.