Life's Not Perfect; Why Should You Be?

Remember the classic children’s book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very-Bad Day? The moment our irascible little narrator wakes up with gum in his hair, his negative thoughts weave an even stickier mess. His tale of woe—even witnessing kissing on TV!—ends with him going to sleep in (the horror!) railroad-print pajamas.

I love this book because it’s relatable, no matter how old we are. While it warns us how negative thinking can spiral into self-fulfilling prophesy, it also shows us we’re human. We're all more alike than different, warts and all.

I’ve been thinking about this book because it reminds me of a day—make that a week—I recently had in which everything seemed to go wrong. For starters, my toilet stopped flushing (ick), the car radio stopped working (!) and my kitchen cabinet fell off its hinges. All quite minor, but if you’re like me, you appreciate things functioning with minimal effort. When they don’t, I am not a naturally patient person who will pull out the instruction manual. Instead, I will irritably punch buttons, restart machines and jiggle handles...and become much like Alexander if five minutes pass without success.

And, like Alexander, my crabbiness can last for hours. Which is why, when I was driving home tonight (crabby), I literally asked God what to do to better manage my frustration. I promise I’ll do anything you say, I prayed, even read directions. The prayer quickly turned into a wish list: Just make me more patient, and not stick my foot in my mouth, and not cross the line from gregarious to garrulous. ...Oh, and make me less critical.

That’s when I started smiling.

Life’s not perfect, so why should I be? I’d spent so much time—yet again—wondering about what I'd said, or hadn’t said, or done, or didn’t do. All that energy expended in worrying—about myself—can be exhausting. It’s also ironic, considering I routinely bemoan my tendency for self-absorption. Ouch.

It was ridiculously freeing, then, to remember that I was only human. It’s also freeing to remember everyone else is, too. (I should note that my father fixed my toilet and a good friend repaired my cabinet. When I turn into Alexander, I forget how blessed I am to have an amazing family and friends.)

After I got home tonight, I thought about those family and friends, as well as people who have much bigger problems than ill-tempered plumbing. Finally, I took out a list of mantras, so to speak, I'd written to turn negative thoughts into balanced thinking. My favorite: "I forgive myself for holding onto the past, because it is from here I learn to exist." What's yours?