I have recently had a few off-blog comments about this post in which I try to put a humorous spin on a really bad day.
A friend of mine – one of those people I never get to see but from the moment we met we really connected and every time we talk we both have words flying out of our mouth as fast as we can and we never really get to fully finish a conversation so we just pick right back up where we left off when we see each other again – yes let’s see if I can make this sentence any longer – where was I? Oh yes…
A friend of mine who I ran into mentioned she loved the blog but I was a bit hard on myself.
I realized I may have given the wrong impression with that post, seeing as this is the 5th or 25th personal comment I’ve received since that post. So let me explain…
No, there is too much, letmesumup…(name that movie)
I am perfectly comfortable with the knowledge that I am not perfect in any way. I deal with mistakes via humor. I actually feel much better once I’ve acknowledged a mistake or personality flaw or something terrible I’ve done without thinking and make fun of it. Laughter is my therapy. If you have ever met my father or My Farmer in real life, that will help you understand. They are always willing to laugh and also make light of things via jokes – it saves face in a way, for me.
But here is the catch…
I also really do think I am totally awesome.
I even think it’s awesome that I can admit that I’m totally awesome after I’ve broken out the minivan’s tail light.
Right after I got it back from the body shop.
Where it was being repaired from another Jessica-inflicted injury.
I still think I’m awesome even when I’ve double-booked activities for the kids one evening and spent an hour getting everything organized and gathered for the two-town trip…then after the first activity is over realized I’ve left the sack lunches in the fridge… Followed by having to detour and drive through (goodbye ten dollars I wanted for something else) a junky fast food establishment thereby arriving late for second activity…I still think I’m awesome.
I promise you all that, even though some days I really suck, I know I’m doing my best and that is close enough for me. I think you are all awesome, too. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt on the doing-your-best clause. I don’t try not to compare myself (or you) to other peeps because that’s apples and oranges. Even on days I don’t have my “A-game” and I feel bad because I (insert your choice here: yelled at children, broke something, took the easy way out, no one has clean jeans, fed the kids crappy food, forgot to pay a bill, misplaced something important, acted like a total Beeeeeotch, didn’t notice the cat on death’s door with tapeworm, missed an appointment, you get the idea) I still think I’m awesome. I think I’m awesome because I’m willing to fess up to whichever imperfection rears its head at the time and try to make it better. I’m into the whole “living an examined life” business. And I’ll still think I’m awesome because usually those things don’t all occur on the same day.
Everyone makes mistakes every single day. And on my list in that blog I listed forgiveness as something I’m good at – I’m good at forgiving myself as well. Being self-critical makes me a better person in lots of ways because I’m SO a middle-child attention whore and I’m always trying to be and do better. Mistakes give me places to put that energy.
Which I think is awesome.
Also my parents did a terrific job of instilling self-confindence. I’m completely secure in myself. I am awesome. I make mistakes. Those are not mutually exclusive. Just authentically human.
I really love it that so many people are reading and thinking about what I’m saying and it makes me feel warm-and-fuzzy that I have friends and family who are concerned that I might be feeling down on myself.
But seriously everybody, even when I’m down on myself I still know I’m awesome because I’m going to do my best to make it better.
I know that’s all Pollyanna and simplistic but in this case, for me, it’s true.
So laugh with me over my mistakes and know I’ve forgiven myself by the time I’m willing to share it here. I may never live it down, but I’ve forgiven myself. And moved on. To the body shop where the shop manager has my email and cell phone.