The goal was to write a blog post once a week and I failed.
No lives were taken, no money lost. Just a mental game I played with myself that didn’t work out.
Oh well, there’s always next week to get it right.
My daughter turns twenty-four on Saturday. She’s at that age where she’s honing her life skills and setting copious goals. Real ones, not just blog posts.
She’s trying and succeeding and then failing. She’s often disappointed or pissed. It’s called being in your twenties, I try to tell her.
My comments and advice are often entertained, but I fear the older my children get, there will be less entertaining. I’m guessing by thirty, they will no longer bother hiding the eye-rolls.
So, if I had my oldest’s undivided attention. If her siblings weren’t interrupting or she wasn’t texting or taking a picture, this is what I would want her to know.
You are magnificent. Inside and out, but no one will recognize that until you do. Beauty, I have learned, starts deep inside. There isn’t enough money or cream or late night online purchases that will cover up self-yuckiness. Like everyone else, you are a work in progress. Talk to yourself often. Don’t forget to sweat, and remember it is what you do most of the time that counts.
Keep your house clean. Your space has energy and taking the time to cherish your surroundings honors who you are and what you will allow.
Read. If you don’t, you will miss out. Guaranteed.
Manage your mind. That bullshit about you are what you think you are isn’t bullshit after all. Keep your thoughts from straying into places that do not serve you.
No one owes you a thing and no one is coming to save you. Be grateful and save yourself.
Be happy is stupid advice. Instead, work. Work hard. Happiness is not given, and it is not a state of being that appears one day on a fluffy cloud. It comes from a job well done, an argument fairly fought, a thriving garden, a late night when everyone else has gone to bed. A happy life is work. Don’t wait for it to show up.
Admit when you are wrong and say you’re sorry. Don’t blame other people or make excuses. Just be wrong. It’s super freeing and vital to the relationships in your life.
You are not running out of time. Contrary to what most of the world chants, barring tragedy, life is long. And if you’re struck by tragedy, you won’t know it anyway. That’s what makes it tragic. Don’t try to live like you are dying. It is impossible, and you will annoy the shit out of people.
Above all else, cut yourself some slack. You are good. You are on your way. Mess up, clean up, and for God’s sake ignore your mother often. She will still love you.
Oh, and when you set goals, give yourself a one or two-day fudge factor. No one will care.
My thoughts from the laundry room. I’ll Tuck You In.