My Potential

For awhile, I didn’t have anything to say, so for a change I actually resisted the temptation to fill the silence with babble. Instead, I stocked up on thrift store uglies and got out my paints, stickers and embellishments to re-make and re-cycle my finds. After all, how many times can you see “Live, Laugh, Love”,  without wanting to vomit. The Christmas season added to my fervor to  craft and fed my passion to make treasures out of junk. I’ve waded through my creations and I’ve finally stuck my head out of my hole. Because I’m taking some deep cleansing breaths I can gain some perspective. I think I decided it’s time to take a break because I spent hours trying to rescue and re-style a wreath —and then decided my time was not worth the diminishing returns I was experiencing. It was time to throw it in the garbage and call it a day. The more I did, the harder I tried, the worst it got and my pride was driving me not to give up. In a moment of clarity, after asking myself “How important is it?”, I had to conclude that it was not important at all, even a little bit. What a relief!

When I look at “worn out” art or crafts I “see” more than what is , I see what could be.  A little bit of paint  etc. and it will become “my” creation. Seeing potential is not necessarily a bad thing, but skipping right to potential may mean I don’t really accept what is. You know those report cards that said “Not living up to potential.”? What kid really knows what potential is and how to spell it? I can spell potential, but even as an older adult I’m not at all sure what my “potential” is. Of course, I could do better on lots of things if I took the time to learn skills,  practice and take the actions I need to take. The real question I have is: “Do I want to focus on my potential, or do I choose to accept myself as I am and stop obsessing about being better or meeting goals?”  It’s one thing to obliterate “Live, Laugh and Love.” signs in order to save the world from banality, but constantly working on self-improvement obliterates my contentment. I don’t really care if my tombstone says “She could have done better….’” even though my choice would be “WTF”.

It’s super hard for me to say “I don’t care!”. Shouldn’t I “care”? Shouldn’t I keep trying? Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not going to be perfect now or when I die. Try, try harder, never give up, you can do it,  blah, blah, blah. How about living, laughing and loving? I’m kidding. Watching romantic comedies, reading “fluff” novels, cuddling with my doggies, going for long walks , spending time with family and friends and throwing away my to-do list are arguably not the way to reach my pinnacle of self-improvement or “potential”, but———- I DON’T CARE!

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