I’m doing my best right now, but I also acknowledge that my best could probably be better.
But that’s life. It’s constant ebbs and flows of what you can handle, what you can take on, your capacity for dealing with everything thrown at you…
You’re never the same version of yourself. There’s always periods of growth, and occasionally setbacks and regressions.
I never feel like anything I do is good enough. Ever.
Because that’s what I’m told. No matter what I do, it isn’t enough. And that’s frustrating and hurtful and demotivating.
But…what if, instead of hearing their words, the words my parents have embedded into my brain daily since childhood…what if instead of holding onto that belief, I reframe it?
They’re not entirely wrong…I do have flaws. Things aren’t perfect. The house isn’t immaculate. All the laundry isn’t folded yet. Clean, but not folded. There are toys out…and, yes, my son may or may not have gotten some crayon on the drawers son the bathroom. The issues they have with me are cosmetic. As in, my mom is OCD, and literally anything out of place or on the floor or out in general is a massive failure by me.
I am doing my best. I really am. And acknowledging that I’m doing my best…well, there has to be space for that.
I could be doing better. I could be more patient. Less anxious. My capacity for holding onto negative feelings before I react could be larger.
My ability to brush off other people opinions of be and not let them affect me so much could be improved.
I am doing my best. I’m showing up. Taking care of EVERYONE and everything, basically by myself.
My load is a few thousand pounds too heavy for me to carry alone.
I’m doing my best.
But, yes. My best could be better.
And I’ll never stop working on making my best even better.
