Admittedly, I‘ve always been a pushover for a “How to Do Anything Better” Guide. Self-help publishers have made a lot money off of my weakness. It’s hard to walk away from these tomes of promise, because for me, there’s always been room for improvement; self-improvement, home improvement. It’s been like a quest for me, always looking for something I can make better. I got to wondering if I had some deep-seated psychological reason for this fixation and came to the realization that I am not a self-improvement junkie, I just like a good project.
Instead of thinking of this hobby of mine as a weakness, I began to consider that it is what makes me me. In this zone of acceptance I came to realize that I love the planning and the preparation that goes into my many undertakings. I’m proud of my successes and comfortable with the half-finished Christmas Tree skirt and dusty exercise equipment hidden in the basement. I can easily accept that I am not a perfectionist. In fact, I like things a little messy and mixed up, punctuated by moments of brilliance; like when the sewing machine is put away and the curtains are up or when I’ve said just the right thing to my angst-ridden teen. These moments keep me hopeful and that is who I am.
I know I could lose a few pounds but I’m in good company. My house has a few hidden clutter piles but it doesn’t look too bad. And my husband and kids can easily alternate between gifts from above to incredible pains in the . . . uhmmm… neck. It is this ebb and flow of contentment that makes my life an interesting place to be. Ever hopeful that my next endeavor will give me that instant of when things are just right.
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