So when I declared June the month of Challenges, the internet gods must have looked down at me from their heavenly thrones and laughed hysterically. Because really, I guess I was kind of asking for it.
I asked for challenges and challenges was what I got last week. Except the challenges weren’t the fun, making perfect bird house doorways with wing bits kind of challenges. They were the messy, crying because I can’t get everybody out of the house kind of challenges. The why can’t I control my temper kind of challenges. The challenge of simply dealing with myself in moments that are not fit for public consumption.
Six months ago, it was challenges like these that inspired this project. Six months later, I’m realizing that this is going to be more than a year’s worth of work. This is a lifetime’s work, and I’m only getting started.
The good news is that going back to the basics helps. Getting some exercise, getting a good night’s sleep. Drinking more water. Mindfully listening to the way that I talk to myself, and remembering to cut myself some slack. I’m not perfect. That woman who I think is perfect isn’t really. Nobody is perfect, and that’s ok. Life is perfectly imperfect.
Instead of finishing my bird house or landing an awesome freelance writing gig, last week I played along with Bea’s game at the dinner table and pretended to be a crying baby. I screwed up my face into my best impression of a crinkly newborn and gave it my best shot. WAAAAAA! The girls thought it was hilarious. WAAAAA WAAA! It probably was. All my overly serious worries seemed more like irrelevant vestigial organs when I was a screaming baby. Â I realized that I’m most likely making things more difficult for myself than they need to be. Â I need to just lighten up already!