Perfection is the enemy of goodness. And yet, there is perfection in goodness, and in good-enoughness.
Every time I bring up how I'm struggling, and how lost and anxious I've felt for the past few years, the person I'm talking with says, "Oh, me too!" or something similar. At first, my internal response was, See? You are making a big deal out of nothing. Everyone else is having a hard time, too, so why do you think you need therapy? Just get on with it. Buck up, buttercup.
Only, that doesn't help. It doesn't help me, and it doesn't help the person I'm talking with, either. Neither of us are served by my being dismissive of my experience.
I am learning to feel my feelings without being overwhelmed by them, to take a deep breath and say, but am I actually okay? Am I actually failing EVERYTHING? Is there nothing good in the world? And of course, the answer is that yes, I am okay. And yes, there is good in the world. And no, I am not failing at everything. And even if I am failing at whatever it is I'm doing right now, it doesn't mean I'm not worthy to live.
I've had some dark thoughts over the past few months. Perhaps you have, too?
I closed it all down, here and elsewhere, because I was having a hard time believing I had anything to offer. I couldn't believe in myself, or in my work. Fairy tales? I don't know enough! Teaching? I failed! I am a terrible teacher-- look at how no one wants to hire me! Writing? Bah! That's not writing! That's just airing your dirty laundry. Voices of censure were so loud in my head, that even now, I can hear their echoes, and it takes more deep breathing for me to go on.
I am editing this post as I go, wondering what to share with you, and whether you will really, actually care about it. But maybe you won't. And that's okay.
Some things I would like to write about:
how homeschooling is actually going.
the dread I feel as the seasons change.
blue October skies and red maple leaves.
learning to cook in a way that feels easy and authentic.
things I love.
fairy tales, and why I miss them.
I have gotten away from everything I loved, and believed to be fun and good and beautiful. I'm taking steps back towards them, knowing that my journey and transparency may help others.
But all of this is to say, here I am. And perhaps this blog will rise again from its own ashes. I am resisting the urge to purge my archives and start over, because there are some nice pieces in there, and I would love to share them with you again. I do have things to offer. I do have stories to tell, and ideas to share. I know what I'm doing, even if it feels like I'm failing horribly -- I'm really only failing about 20% of the time, which would be a batting average of .800, which is unheard of. So maybe it's time to go out on more limbs.
How are you?
Hi. That's me. I write, sometimes, about parenting, storytelling, and about living a life with stories.