I’m not a big finisher. Not a hair always done, make-up always on kind of person.
My house is almost always tidy (dirty, but tidy) except for one explosion of a room. At all times my “green room” is a hive of piles and projects in progress. I like it that way, it smacks of potential. I am almost always on time. That could be rephrased as I am almost always late, but I choose to be positive about things. I am almost a real runner. I lace up, get out, and log those K’s, but I’m not dedicated to intervals, adding distance, and working up to a marathon.
This week at kid2’s soccer, she repeatedly narrowly missed the net on a couple of breakaways. I encouraged her, yelling “Almost!” and it struck me how perfectly acceptable almost can be. It teases you to keep trying. Coming so close gives you hope that what you’re aiming for really is attainable. I need to ponder this further, but it’s going to fuel my decisions in coming months. I certainly haven’t been perfect to date, but here I sit with two fabulous children, a day job that fits nicely around my real life, and enough shine, friends, and fun in my world that I don’t feel adrift as a person.
I feel done with stressing about things being perfect. I accept that there are going to be factors beyond my control in most situations, so I shall simply do and be my best and roll with it. I want people in my world who don’t have expectations of me beyond common sense and decency, and I want to trust that who and how I am is enough.
So I am trying new things! I have zero expectation that I’m going to be perfect at them, but I would rather try than live with wondering what if. I feel optimistic I can make a difference and grow as a person. I accept that something less than perfect is the general human condition. I finally feel confident.