Monday, May 11, 2015

Imperfectly Perfect

Yesterday was Mother's Day. Holidays always make me anxious. I tend to have ideas about how I think things will go, and they never go that way in real life. I am not good with changes in routine that are not at least somewhat predictable by having some kind of plan.

So, when a day like Mother's Day rolls around I have a plan about how I think things should go. I feel pressured, and emotional to begin with, and it doesn't take much to derail my mood, which is exactly how Mother's Day started for me yesterday.

At first, I felt bad that I felt bad. I felt like I was being ungrateful, and negative. So, I felt double awful, and this did nothing to make my mood better. Then, I decided to that maybe it was okay for me to feel whatever it is that I feel. I remembered that I had a right to feel my own feelings, and accept them as valid. As I stopped pushing against this mood it began easing up, and my day did indeed turn around to being what I would consider a pretty good day! It was only when I stopped judging my mood, and stopped trying to tell myself what feelings I should feel that things began turning around to being more positive.

That reminded me of something that happened earlier last week. Beans is very much into getting into, and taking all of my nic-nacs, and other decorations. I don't have many anymore for him to get to. The only ones left in the living room were in a closed shelf that he never bothered until last week. They were all the ones that were irreplaceable either by emotional attachment, or because they were collectible. He would wait for me to be in the bathroom, or have my back turned to climb up to the shelf, and get them out. On one occasion last week he broke one. It was a candle holder that my deceased grandmother had bought me when my daughter died. Obviously, there was no replacing this object. I wasn't heartbroken about it, really. I don't get attached to objects, but I was sad that it had been broken.

When my husband arrived home from work, and saw it sitting there in pieces he went straight to gluing it back together. I didn't think it could be repaired. It was too damaged, I said.
He attempted it anyway. It does not look pretty now, The cracks are visible, and the angels are broken up. The three of them don't match, as they all now have missing pieces except one.

Though, I didn't say it out loud, as the night wore on I thought to myself that in some ways it's more perfect than it was. It is a perfect metaphor for my life. It seemed to be meant to be the way it is, and there was no use in getting upset about something I couldn't control. Beans breaks things all the time. He doesn't do it on purpose, or because he's naughty. It happens every day, and there's nothing I can do about it. I just have to accept the situation (and him) as it is, and put things away better if I don't want them broken. My life is not what I might have expected. It has had it's difficulties, and it's heartaches. Somehow, we always pick up the pieces, and mend it to be still be a great experience we all share in together.  As soon as I let it go, and accepted the way it is, and not what I thought it had to be my happiness quotient expanded exponentially. Unexpected, imperfectly perfect.
Hope was my daughter's middle name.


  1. That is an amazing mentality- and I usually take a lot to get to that point of acceptance but it does come eventually:) I would find that so hard as decorating is my life...I have done it since the kids were babes and a few things have gotten broken but most of it has been a fixed piece of furniture in their eyes which is weird because when other kids come over everything gets touched, moved or broken unless they are also kids who have naturally been here a lot and view it as fixed furniture too. Like you - I do not believe beans is being naughty or doing it on kids have other similar attributes with other things that naturally happen every day....and the cycle of constant repair with emotions or damaged clothes...I guess we all have different things that make life messy...but I love the messiness of being alive sometimes too:) Which is why I understand every word of this post...thank you for writing it. It was beautiful .

    1. It is hard, because I used to have everything organized, and in it's place. I was never big on decorating a lot, but everything in my house went together. Now, everything is put away, and nothing is left where it's convenient, so just to pay a bill via mail, for example, takes several steps to get to everything needed when most people would have it all left out on a desk, or similar surface. There are days where I do get frustrated over that, but I have realized that most of the time when I do it is because I feel like I am at a disadvantage to others. I feel like no one else has to do this or that, or their house doesn't look like this, but I realize it only bothers me, because I am assigning false meaning to being like others. Being like others, and having a super tidy house, or a schedule that allows me to do more is not better, or worse. It's just different, and it only bothers me when I try to hold myself to the standard of what I consider normal, and not what works for us.I guess the short version of that is that I am only bothered when I compare myself to other moms!

      Thanks for your comment. I always enjoy reading your comments!

  2. "Ring the bells that still can ring
    Forget your perfect offering
    There is a crack in everything
    That is how the light gets in"
    -Leonard Cohen


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