mistakes and flowers.

i messed up at work last week. i got stage fright in an important meeting and totally choked on explaining details that mattered. i recovered, other people covered for me and the person most affected by the outcome of the meeting had way more important things to deal with and i doubt even noticed.

but i was SO UPSET.

i did the things i think we should do when we make mistakes:

i fixed it as best i could.

i owned it in the debrief, and i apologized sincerely.

i am genuinely feeling better about it today, because i didn't make the same mistake at a meeting this morning.

even though officially all is well,

i'm working on some ways to fix it even more in the days to follow.

but.

i really, really hate making mistakes.

i SUCK at keeping my "mistakes are good" rule in my own heart. 

i'm realizing more and more what a strange, closet perfectionist i am. i hide it because i am totally fine with being nothing close to perfect or best at things i don't care about, or don't think i should be good at.

i don't care about running fast, getting especially high grades, sewing straight seams, and i clearly don't care about cleaning my house before people come over. i enthusiastically speak my undoubtedly grammatically incorrect Spanish to every patient Mexican friend or acquaintance i have. i invite everyone and their mom over to try recipes i've never made before, figuring that if i wreck it i can just order us all pizza.

i can even give myself a decent amount of learning curve space with something brand new... 

but a mistake in an area important to me,

that i "shouldn't" have made?

i will lie awake at nights, man.

i've been ruminating on how maybe the most effective way to teach my girls that mistakes are good and God loves us when we make mistakes,

is not necessarily making them repeat it over and over,

but letting them see me make mistakes and be truly okay with them.

sooo... it would probably be easiest to "let them see me" do something...

that i actually can do.

i guess i should continue this "hard look" process at what feels so very not okay to me about making mistakes.

i'll keep y'all posted.

******

stories from two important people in my life helped me the next day.

i spoke on the phone with a close friend, one of the most intelligent and hard-working people i know. he sympathized with my story, mentioning casually he'd made a mistake at work last week too.

his mistake cost his company the amount of money that could buy...

could buy...

it's significantly more than i made in an entire year at my first full-time job. the one that was a good job with benefits.

hurray for what Brene Brown calls the shame-defeating power of "me, too"...

and miss hannah took a rough spill off her bike this week :-(.

involving lots of blood, a possibly broken tailbone, a sprained thumb,

and a trip to urgent care.

my poor baby!

amy asked her if she was going to be scared to ride her bike again.

"...She looked at me like i was crazy and said, "Um, no! Riding my bike is fun. I just need to learn how to use my hand breaks better."

girlfriend inspires me.

*****

back to work, lady.

mistakes are good because they're how we learn.

god loves us even when we make mistakes,

and can redeem them all

no matter how many or few zeros were attached.

riding my bike (or sewing, cooking, hostessing, therapizing, or meeting-facilitating) is fun.

i just need to learn to use my handbreaks better.

i'll keep practicing,

and then i will continue to enjoy the ride.

********

ps.

i still really, really hate making mistakes. i wish i were perfect.

*******

and on another note,

here are some pictures of recent major perks of a part-time job gardening.

lost in the right direction.

A couple months ago,

I decided to add a year to my time in the program.

This lets me take a lighter class load,

do research in areas I love,

and live overall at a much slower pace.

The way things flowed last year was just not good for me.

I like breathing, and sleeping, and friendship, and prayer...

and it felt like a constant fight to find time for them.

And fighting itself is tiring.

Plus:

I want to like grad school.

I want to live it well and not just view this entire thing I am devoting hours and hours and years to as "something to get through".

But that's what was happening.

I felt crabby and miserable when in class or trying frantically to get my work done.

And I felt like I had no margin to reflect on what I was learning,

or to put as much heart as I wanted to

into the actual work-

the reason, you know,

that I came here at all.

This year:

I am full-time two days a week at a practicum as the school counselor in an elementary school a few miles away, a small school in a rural community.

I love it madly.

I am in meetings and class a few hours each of the remaining work days.

At the moment,

while my cohort is in hour two of their nine or ten hour day,

with homework to do when they finally get home,

I am at Chapters drinking pumpkin coffee,

finishing up notes and taking a quiz.

My heart is not racing.

I slept eight hours last night.

Finding time for a group meeting does not make me feel like I want to hide or bang my head against the wall.

I spent all morning at school yesterday,

and then spent the afternoon picking out pumpkins and non-hurriedly cooking a soup for friends coming for dinner.

I turned in a paper and led a presentation in class this week without feeling like I was flying by the seat of my pants.

I am putting more effort than is required for my practicum,

because I want to,

because it is a privilege to work with these kids,

and because now I have the space and energy to do more than just get by.

I'm going to a conference in February to learn about how to help at-risk families form strong attachments,

something that moves my heart more than practically anything else,

the passion that led me to higher education.

Though it requires some juggling,

I don't feel like I am doomed to fail my classes or play catch-up for months and months to make that trip work.

Did I mention that my heart is not racing?

The other day Breanna asked me,

"What are you doing with the extra time you have now?"

I felt a moment of panic...

what am I doing??

I just added a year of school

(and extra thousands of dollars)-

for what?!!

I answered the first thing that came to mind...

"I'm not really doing that much more...

I'm just doing everything slower."

It's true.

And it feels right.

I am thankful for the freedom and encouragement to make this decision,

and I am hopeful I will be a more thoughtful psychologist

and a more peaceful friend

with these extra hours in my days.