Word Vomit Things

Some Days

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m an enneagram 1.  I like neat and tidy. Well, I like life to be neat and tidy.  My apartment? Nah, don’t care.  My office space? Negative. Mess it up.  My life? Just so, please.

Lack of perfection and order stresses me out.  It makes me want to fix it.  I need order.  I need perfect.  Yeah, dude.  I know perfect doesn’t exist.  I’m very aware.  As someone that seeks perfection and has for as long as she can remember, I’m unbelievably aware of how incredibly far from perfect life is.

I don’t know that I’ll ever stop striving for the best.  I don’t think that’s in my blood.  I don’t think that’s who I am.  Lately it’s been less about going against who I am and more about learning to embrace the lack of perfection.  It’s not changing who I am, it’s changing how I react to the world and experiences around me.  Yes, my perfectionism could use some reining in, however, while I do try to work on that, there is so much in my control.

So, what does “acceptance” of imperfection look like? I don’t know. Ha! I think it changes on a daily basis.  Every single day I have to remind myself to unclench in one regard to life.  Maybe I’m leaving the clinic later than I originally anticipated.  Maybe Rocky wants to play when I’m trying to have my quiet time in the mornings.  Maybe someone is at the gym and I was looking forward to a quiet, solo workout.  Yes, all of those things stress me out.  I know.  Unclench Dani.  I’m trying.  While every day is filled with seemingly endless moments of imperfection, some days are harder than others to navigate through.

Some days it looks like me setting aside my Bible and notebook and embracing my little fur spaz God placed in my life.  Some days it looks like trying to record a podcast episode twice and having both episodes disappear the moment I click save, only to laugh it off and think “better luck next time, newb”.  Some days it looks like sneaking into church for the first time since I’ve moved and crying my way through the sermon.  Some days it looks like sitting in sadness and anger grief inevitably brings up instead of putting on a face and shoving them aside.  Some days it’s being okay with hearing from Mike for an hour in the morning and being grateful for that time, knowing some people don’t get even that. Who am I kidding? These were all today.  Yet, today was one of my favorite days.  The coffee I had before church tasted incredible.  The sermon at church spoke beautifully to this season in my life.  The air was chilly and crisp and the trees boasted breathtaking shades of orange, red, and yellow.  I got to feel the click, clack of my keyboard underneath my fingers to write, something that sets my soul on fire.

Ignoring the simplicity that each day has to offer due to the focus on the inevitable imperfections of daily life is a tragedy.  To miss the autumn air and leaves only to wake up and find yourself in a grey, dreary winter.  To miss the small, seemingly inconvenient moments in the morning with a playful pup only to wake up and find the years wearing on him.  To take for granted the “good morning babe” texts from him when someone else may not have heard from their guy in a while.

Some days are bad. All days are filled with opportunities to seek moments of joy, even if that joy is ending your day on a Queer Eye Netflix binge.  See ya!



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