I am wrong far more often than I’d like.
I make mistakes like it’s going out of style and have to take a really hard look at who I am at my core at least once a week.
It is tempting in this strange world we live in to judge and categorize all my experiences and decisions in a misguided—but well-intended—effort to make some sense of things.
Either they’re good experiences or they’re bad experiences.
Black and white.
Nice and clean.
No confusion or weirdness.
Unfortunately, life rarely ever works that way.
“Good” experiences can sometimes hurt.
“Bad” experiences can teach us hard-won truths.
We are a convoluted mix of good and bad, certainty and uncertainty, right and wrong, confusion and understanding, and at least a million other things.
Life isn’t neat and tidy.
There’s no way it could be.
We’re too complicated and too beautiful to live a life that is clean and simple.
We’re watercolors running into each other, making new shades and crooked lines and pictures we don’t always recognize.
It’s beautiful. But sometimes it’s a mess.
Maybe not all experiences are either good or bad.*
Maybe we need to let them be and stop trying to analyze the hell out of them.
After all, we can’t control timing or situations or circumstances or feelings.
The little control we have is limited to our responses to these things.
Do we choose to be brave when we’re afraid?
Do we choose to be kind when we’re hurting?
Do we choose to move forward when we’re tired?
Do we choose love when it’s easier to hide?
Yes, we do.
Because we’re living this life.
Imperfectly? Of course. But we’re living it together.
Be kind to yourself.
*This statement is not intended to diminish traumatic, heartbreaking experiences. I’ve had a few of those and, even though good things have come from them, I’m still usually inclined to call them “bad” experiences. Call them whatever you need to on your road to healing. ♡