We could stand to give ourselves a break.
Self-judgment is one of the most insistent themes in the Everyday Life in Middletown diaries. The diaries suggest that self-evaluation, often negative, is a powerful, recurrent element of everyday consciousness, not so much constant as on a sort of recurring loop, and attached to such routine activities as eating, exercise, work, and caregiving.
We critique ourselves for not working hard enough, or starting early enough, or staying on task. And, we critique ourselves, and our intimates, for working too hard.
As midnight arrives on November 14, 2017, Diarist A16 is slaving over a financial aid form for her son’s college applications while her husband, a teacher, is at his school, grading and preparing for the morning’s classes. “Everyone in this house is up way too late working way too often,” she writes.
We critique ourselves over our media usage: “Look at my phone for 15 minutes. Watch a stupid 7 minute video, the entire time thinking ‘GO. TO. SLEEP!’”
We critique ourselves for critiquing ourselves: “I’m good at overwhelming myself,” writes a diarist, having decided to trim back her summer reading list. “One day at a time kiddo, enjoy the moment.”
And we criticize ourselves over food, food, food, food.
* * * * * * * * *
Where is this severity coming from?
Broadly, there’s our competitive, capitalist economy, with its American ideology of hard work and upward mobility, its (strained, at present) belief that our effort determines our destinies. In this setting self-evaluation can seem essential to progress, and small lapses can seem self-defeating.
One powerful expression of this ideology is the concept of self-help, with its vast industry of products offering to make it easier. This pervasive idea dates back at least to the mid-Victorian best-seller Self-Help (1852) by the aptly named Englishman Samuel Smiles—and can show up in everyday consciousness as self-judgment.
“I think I need to get active,” writes one diarist, amidst the late-winter blahs. “I would call the drive-through line a vice of mine,” writes another. “It seems to be a work avoidance day and too much time was probably spent chatting with a co-worker about our gardens,” writes a third.
* * * * * * * * *
This consistent self-evaluation marks one of the many, subtle ways that the future informs the present, tying our ordinary, daily activities to an often unstated narrative about the future—a fantasy of a better, healthier self that we either are or are not (so we judge) working towards in the moment.
The literary critic Lauren Berlant examined our attachments to such “fantasies of the good life” in her 2011 book Cruel Optimism. We become attached to fantasies of a better personal future as a means of lending significance to our daily activities, of understanding our “life as a project adding up to something,” she writes.
All attachments—whether to a person, place, or an imagined future—are optimistic, Berlant writes, describing optimism as
the force that moves you out of yourself and into the world in order to bring closer the satisfying something that you cannot generate on your own but sense in the wake of a person, a way of life, an object, project, concept, or scene.
These attachments become “cruel,” Berlant argues, when the very pursuit of what we want becomes an obstacle to our thriving—when we work ourselves sick out of professional ambition, or sustain faith in a romantic partner who is unsupportive or abusive, or go on a diet for the twentieth time, renewing an addictive cycle of irrational optimism followed by shame.
Thus we may find ourselves “bound to a situation of profound threat that is, at the same time, profoundly confirming.”
* * * * * * * * *
And while this sort of self-judgment is undoubtedly part of everyday consciousness, the diary form itself may emphasize it. The diary’s history is tied up with the history of individualism, of self-exploration as a practice of betterment, of life as a “project adding up to something.” In Philippe Lejeune’s studies of the diary form, he identified “reflection” as one of the four purposes of diary-keeping, along with self-expression, the pleasure of writing, and the desire to create a record of one’s life.
The particular kind of diary we create at Everyday Life in Middletown may especially encourage self-judgment. Our prompt is to “write down everything you do, and what you’re thinking and feeling as you do it.” This instruction calls for thought in the midst of activities that might otherwise pass unremarked upon, many of which (eating, working, exercising—or not) are open to evaluation under the regime of self-help.
At the same time, we at EDLM know that our diaries will be shared publicly, if anonymously. As a result of the public nature of our writing, we may feel compelled to explain and justify ourselves, to apologize, rationalize, or make promises.
After a trying day at work, one diarist gives in to the urge to comfort himself with food, pausing to offer an explanation: “Neither of us felt like cooking, and with the need for extra comfort evident, we simply order pizza. I am trying to eat better, sure, but this is the sort of mental health meal I need right now.”
* * * * * * * *
Yet, amidst the drumbeat of self-criticism, one also finds in the diaries ingenious means of self-discipline and sweet, tender moments of kindness to ourselves, of “positive self-talk” and gentle self-chiding, leavened with loving good humor.
In the latest iteration of self-help, people use devices to prompt and monitor self-discipline: logging calories in a “fitness app,” tracking work in a “productivity app.” Less technically savvy, a professor sets his phone alarm to time his work sessions and prevent overly long periods of sitting, rewarding himself with—what else?—food!
In a funny moment of self-tenderness, the mother of a grade-school child, at the outset of a dizzying day of professional work and domestic labor, razzes herself about her son’s breakfast. Her humor signals a deeper knowledge that she’s doing well by him overall:
“I will fully admit here that I also let him have the iPad while he eats. And now, I will go even further to secure my Mother of the Year status by admitting that, like so many mornings, I have given him a popsicle. I will point out that said popsicle is made of real fruit and vegetables, so I feel only slightly guilty.”
And a copywriter, in the midst of a long day of working at home—and wrestling intensely with self-judgment about work, procrastination, and more—receives praise, via instant message, from a colleague. This lifts her mood and shifts the dynamics of judgment, self-image, and acceptance, which thread richly through her short description of her reaction:
“That makes me feel really good. I’m so critical of my work. I want people to like me, especially at work, and I need more praise than I know is reasonable to expect. Which is okay, because in spite of my self-criticisms, I’m also decently confident, and getting more confident with age and experience.”
–Patrick Collier