Why do we insist on perfection? Why are we remembered for our worst moment instead of the list of days of consistent good? Why does it take one mistake to render a week of success into a vague memory?
It just seems like sometimes you work hard and that one slip, that one bagel choice, that one harsh word is some kind of defining moment. And those seem to last longer that the normal moment. The boo boos of life seem to last a lifetime. of regret? of disappointment? of remorse?
Today I like me. I like being human and not even close to perfect. I know in my heart I'm doing my best - and that's where the bar should really be set.
After a difficult and disappointing month I'm going to find something to look forward to. At Christmas we have a teddy bear picnic -- I think I need one in May!
Today I'm going to remind myself I'm a good person, a good wife, a good mother, a good teacher, a good friend, and ok - a really bad housekeeper. I can live with that.
Today I'm going to be more present in today -- because really, aren't all the imperfections in the past. In yesterday's decision, in yesterday's words, in yesterday's disappointments. Today is a new chance, a new choice, a new time to smile.
I can't stop the tears at losing my sister, I can't change the expectations of those around me, I can't control my sugar all the time, I can't understand some of the demands on my time and talents (why me syndrome).
I'm so very not perfect. And that's perfectly ok.