I am a recovering perfectionist. As with any recovery, some days I’m more “recovered” than others. Truth moment—I don’t think I’ll ever be fully “recovered”. I will always be a work in progress here.
And seriously—I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my life when attaining my idea of a “perfect” anything is less appropriate. I continue to process what feels like endless waves of grief, over multiple aspects of my life that have served their purpose and now ask to be laid to rest. My midlife journey invites me over and over to engage with life in a new way, a way that has no visible markers of progress, achievement or productivity. Then there’s the worldwide social and political climate, keeping our collective nervous systems on high alert for threats both visible and invisible. The past three months have felt Just Too Much.
And so this morning, feeling overwhelmed by my own feels before I even got out of bed, this statement wrapped itself around my heart, and helped me remember my own Truth.
“Miracles happen in the space of making do.”
I was reminded in a visceral way, a way that slowed my heart rate, calmed my breathing and gave me reason to smile, just a little, that no matter what I bring to my life today, I am Enough. My kitchen is a disaster zone. My office is home to an inglorious collection of piles that represent lots of good intentions but not much follow-through. I just haven’t had to the energy to engage with any of it.
And today, I am here. I am Enough—jogging pants, messy hair, and weepy eyes. What I bring to the world is gift, even when I can’t see it myself. I take my hands off the controls, stop trying to meet my own expectations, and let this moment be what it is.
Perhaps the most I can muster today is just showing up here for my blog, wondering if my words will matter to anyone but me. Perhaps all that today holds for me is being present to myself, caring for my tenderized heart as best I know how, with cups of tea, my knitting and an episode (or three) of “Call the Midwife.
Today I am living and feeling into these words by Glennon Doyle. “We yearn for relief, for hope, for comfort, for love … and we think it will come. … It’s not coming. It is always only already here. It is not separate from our messes. It is inside of them. Love and Magic … it’s not apart from our lives. It’s here now.”
This is my Truth today … remembering that what I most long for isn’t “out there” somewhere. It’s here, inside me, inside what feels like a complete mess. I don’t have to make the mess be anything different than what it is. It is in tending and befriending the mess that I rediscover my own worth, my own enough-ness. From that rediscovery grows tiny sprouts of hope and joy and creativity.
Because messes are where miracles are born.
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