5 Lessons from 2014 (to date)

2014 is kicking my ass.

It's been kicking my ass so hard that I haven't been publishing much for fear that every post would be about the inky blackness of my soul (like FOR REAL, y'all. ALL THE FEELS.)

So instead of posting the mad, mad details of this mad, mad year, here are a few of the things I've learned/am learning in the midst of one of the most emotionally diverse times of my life. 

1.  Be the First

Be the first to say "I love you," and "I'm sorry." No one wins when you keep these words to yourself. 

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2.  Fuck Perfection

I've never been more painfully aware of just how little I have my shit together.

There is part of that awareness that shatters me to a million tiny pieces and makes me feel like a floundering, drowning underachiever, and part of it that's freeing.

Either way, "good enough" (or even just "enough") takes a lot of practice...and it's better than not creating or finishing anything at all because you're afraid it won't be "perfect."

So fuck perfection, which leads me to...

3.  Just Show Up

Sometimes you just need to show up. That might mean getting a few sentences on paper when you'd rather not, showing to an event you know none of your friends are going to, or just being available.

Get the first part down, take the act of making that first step...you never know what happens if you just show up.

4. Quit

Sometimes you gotta stop trying to make fetch happen. If you've given something every opportunity to succeed and it's not (and probably won't), it's okay to say goodbye.

At the very least, quitting gives you room for something new.

5.  You Are a Work in Progress...

...but even the best projects can use a hiatus. At this point, I have no fucking clue where this ass kicking year is leading me, or what final lessons I'm supposed to learn, or even when it's supposed to let up.

There are days I power through, determined to figure my shit out. There are other days--more frequently of late--where I sit back and just say, "I have no idea. And that's okay."

Admitting that I have no clue is--like shedding perfectionism--both awful and freeing.

It's a total letting go of the need to be right, it's rejecting the idea that I have to have an answer to matter, and it's releasing the need for a plan as the thing that gives my life meaning. 

Deep stuff, though. When I get overwhelmed, I eat a lot of brownie brittle and binge watch terrible, emotionally void television.

But I think there's some progress of late. Maybe. And if not, that's okay, too, WHICH IS HARD TO EVEN TYPE. 

Baby steps.