What I Will Make of It

Sometimes, life is frustrating to me. Inevitably, not everything is exactly how I would wish it, so I say to myself, "Lady, you can do something about this. Get up off your rear and go to work." And so I do just that, but rarely do my efforts produce the outcome I was looking for. Then I feel like throwing my hands up. And that is why life is frustrating to me sometimes.

Here is my kitchen sink as an example. We moved the sink to the middle of the room last week. It used to be against the wall near the door, but we wanted to use that wall for things other than the sink. The work of moving our sink created a mess, because the cupboard doesn't have a back on it. Additionally, it's ancient and metal, which implies rust. Ugh. In the end, it should be a lot nicer than it was before, but until the end we're looking at this:

Frustrating.

Frustrating --that's how my morning was. And not because of the sink.

By lunchtime I sent off a note to my husband, simmering with angst. Every task, big and small, enjoyable and tedious, attempted that morning had ended with very little success. In my wake, I left unfinished projects, unkempt rooms, burned food, a whiny boy, and I had rigidly typed out my frustrations, draped in my pajamas well past noon. I ended with something like "what's the point in trying? it rarely works out." Which is ridiculous, I know, but that's how I was feeling --ridiculous and in my pajamas.

I walked away from the computer, through my trail of messes, and kept thinking angsty things. Until it turned to honesty and introspection.

And I came to the realization that honestly, I'm looking for perfection. In myself, in other people, in my surroundings, in my efforts, in my food, in my body. And when bodies, efforts, food, or people don't behave the way I envisioned, I am stunned; my motions forward slow to a crawl. I say to myself, "what's the point? look at this mess! A mess is always the result." And frustrations (plus a good helping of exaggeration) are enough that I give up giving my best. That's why I crawl.

I rarely encounter perfection. In fact, the product and even the process are most typically very, very far from anything that even slightly resembles perfection. Is that a reason to stop shooting for my best or expecting the best from the world?

I think the answer is NO. I don't think the expectation is my problem, I think it's my reaction to the disappointment.

The struggle and messes are what make life real; it's the way I handle those struggles and messes that can make life colorful and even beautiful. I determine my happiness, I prove the beauty.

So these are my resolutions:

• keep on dreaming. Don't shoot for less than my most glorious ideal even knowing that it may not go as planned.
• learn to let go of the things that don't really matter, while clutching tightly the things that do even if it takes courage.
• be patient and maybe learn to laugh when things don't turn out. Just because something isn't perfect doesn't mean it's not beautiful.