Perfectly Imperfect

by amontondo

I read a quote once that said “Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. It means that you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.”  And that sums up quite nicely where I have finally arrived at in my professional and personal life.  I’ve spent the better part of the past five years agonizing over which road I would take.  Pressure.  Oh the pressure.  But where was that pressure coming from?  It certainly isn’t coming from my husband.  He’s most happy with just letting Angela.  Wherever that takes me.  So that only leaves one person and she can be quite the taskmaster.  The pressure has been coming from somewhere inside of me.  There is that part of me who believes that a certain degree will tidy all of the proverbial “loose ends” in my life quite nicely. It will make everything just perfect. That really doesn’t make that much sense does it?  Because what we do is not who we are.  And it really took me a long time to figure that out.

I have truly enjoyed my many years working as a nurse.  But nursing has changed so much over the years..and quite frankly, so have I.  There has always been something inside of me left unfilled.  Empty.  I always thought that advancing myself further through my education would bring me to the place where that feeling disappeared.  But that isn’t what happened at all.  The more “educated” I become, the more I find that most of the time, theory prevails over practice.  The less “hands on” transpires.  And one truth I’ve built my life on:  experience trumps theory any day.

School starts for the little man this September, but it’s already started for me. In fact, it’s a life work in progress.   My plans are to continue to aggressively pursue a Masters in “Lessons Learned by Living” for a while. There’s no rush to make a decision. Sometimes..sometimes not making a decision is actually making one. A huge one.  Learning to be ok with that is another lesson entirely.  I’m working on that.

No matter how hard I push, pull, agonize or organize, life will never be my version of perfect, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.  Who wants to have all glitz and no dirt?  All shine on the outside and no sand on the floor mats?  Every single dish put in place?  All order and no beautifully random chaos?  I don’t.  Not anymore.  I am now a little less concerned with where I will arrive than I am with how I am getting there.  So me and the little man will spend the rest of the summer getting a little dirt on the tires, sand on the floor mats, and leaving dishes in the sink.  Doesn’t that sound kind of..perfect?