I spent so many years waiting for everything to line up. Somewhere there was a perfect iteration of me, I just needed to find or make it. I have learned the hard way that that mentality is a terrible way to live your life. Perfect is what you decide it is and most often it does not look like your vision. It can fill your soul anyway. I choose to pursue the imperfect, the good enough everyday.
One mid winter day several years ago when the pandemic and cold, early evening darkness descended on my house I decided to try something new. January is a time for reinvention. New year, new you. Finally I would be thin and fit with organized drawers and closets. My children and marriage would thrive. I would kill it at work. But really Covid was dragging on and my family was struggling with real challenges. My father had just been put into a hospital that we couldn’t visit and I knew deep in my bones that his time was near.
I don’t remember what exactly gave me the courage to reach out to a friend of a friend about a riding lesson. I was terribly worried I was too heavy to ride, that I would be turned away before I mounted up. I had been a decent rider once. Self taught mostly, torturing the saint of a horse that had been gifted to me but I had stopped for college and never looked back. Much in the same way someone would walk away from a relationship that had broken their heart. It was over and never again to be.
Choosing to pursue the imperfect.