Accepting Failure and Moving On
Well, I did it for three days in a row. That’s something, right? Being a parent isn’t easy. Things happen. Babies are time-consuming. It’s not about the results, it’s about the journey. The great thing about failing, is you can tell yourself you’ll do better next time, and then do it. You pick up the pieces and glue them into something even better.
Okay, it’s not really a big deal, but I did make a promise to myself that I would write something every day. Then, the weekend rolled around, and I didn’t do anything Saturday. So, I told myself that “Every day” could easily mean every weekday. So, I decided to write on Monday. Then, I forgot.
Sheesh. Is every person alive out there like me, or is it just me? I’m terrible at making good habits, and even worse at breaking old ones. The other day, I bit all of my nails off. I haven’t bitten my nails in years. I really need to set a good example for this kid, and I’m not being terribly successful. I eat junk. I drink coffee all day. I don’t exercise. I’ve failed in the things I’ve told myself I want to do.
This is the biggest failure of all. At least that’s what it feels like.
I pledge, now, to be a little easier on myself. I can be messy. I can take a break. I can put away the clothes tomorrow and let Gwen chill in her crib for 5 minutes while I decompress. This doesn’t make me a bad person. Maybe a lazy one, maybe a messy one, but not a bad one.
I accept the things I set out to do aren’t the things that get done, and I move on.