Better Mistakes

So, that post earlier this week. That was something, huh? Downright inspiring.

Hey, when I’m on, I’m on.

The way I see it, dealing with gender issues is tough. It’s a core identity thing, and there’s no quick fix or easy five step plan. The closest I’ve found is what appears to be a 50+ step, mostly messy and guaranteed-to-be-complicated plan.

Such is life.

Which is kinda the point. It’s not just gender. I don’t care who you are or what you’re dealing with, there are things that are so difficult to wrap our minds around that we’re destined to have rough days.

Of course, the unspoken agreement we Americans have in such situations is to pretend we’re fine, just fine, thank you. I think that’s dumb.

Why? Because perfection is a myth.

It’s not real. No one has the prefect life. The perfect body. The perfect set of friends, or perfect job, or perfect relationship. No one is rocking the perfect sex life, the perfect body image, or the perfect stress management plan. No one has perfect self image, either.

Did you wake up this morning? Well, then you’ve likely already made at least 43 mistakes. Welcome to being human.

The indisputable truth of that used to get to me. I was raised to believe in the myth of perfection. You know what really sucks about that? It totally ruins the idea of progress. Who cares if you’re better now than you were last week if you’re still not perfect.

Keep at it, slugger. Some day you’ll be good enough.

Bull. Shit.

Perfection is a myth. Progress is not.

Look, I’m not where I want to be. There are times (like, oh, I don’t know … the last several days?) when that gets me down. I have some notion, albeit a vague one, of where I want to be eventually. I’m not there. I don’t like that. It’s easy to start thinking of the destination as some kind of perfection.

If I can just get there, my life will be what I want it to be.

Except, that won’t be perfect. I’ll still make mistakes . I’ll develop new goals. From that point, I’ll want to do something else. Go somewhere else. Grow in some new way.

Perfection is a myth.

But the journey from where I am to that place is PROGRESS, and that’s real. As real as my fucking face. (By which I mean my face, ‘fucking’ used purely for emphasis, not the face I make when …)

And since perfection is a myth but progress is real, there’s ultimately only one goal that matters. Make better mistakes today.

I made dozens of mistakes yesterday. I’ll make at least as many today. My goal is nothing more than to make better mistakes today. To grow. To get a little closer to my current goal.

I’m not shooting for perfection. That’s an unattainable goal. A depressingly elaborate mind fuck. A self-imposed loop that will drive you mad with jealousy and bitterness.

I just want to make better mistakes. While laughing mischievously along the way, of course.