If you've been reading this blog, it will come as no surprise that I am constantly on some kind of self-improvement mission. Often my missions are aborted before completion, but I've refused to believe that they are impossible or flawed...until now.
I recently asked my family: "if you could live any other life, what would it be?". While I had grandiose visions of myself living as a lesbian journalist in Paris, most of them wouldn't actually change much about their lives. So why am I eternally trying to improve myself by metamorphosis instead of accepting myself for who/where/how/what I am and working with that? Not that self-improvement missions are inherently evil, but I am now convinced that they should follow the course of "minor tweaks" (as my sister-in-law puts in) rather than complete and utter personality overhauls.
For example, I've recently moved into a new house and starting to ride my bike to work. I had visions of myself cruising through the city in a perfectly-placed straw hat and cotton tunic, bottle of wine perched jauntily in my basket. Reality, naturally, is a lot more precarious. When I went to buy wine, I ended up buying snacks too, thus my basket broke from the extra weight and I had to hold it to the handlebars manually. It was unseasonably cold, so I had to augment my cotton tunic with leggings, which ripped during my managing of the basket-to-handlebar ratio. I actually don't own a straw hat, and wouldn't be able to wear one anyway since helmets are mandatory in Halifax. So in lieu of my chosen accessory, I donned a CCM black bicycle helmet (the type quite popular with 8-year-old boys).
The result: less polished, less coordinated, but definitely more ME. So what if I'm not the kind of person who is perennially smooth and coordinated? I should rejoice that I AM the kind of person who rides my bike to work and doesn't let things like helmet hair or lacerated leggings get her down. I still made it to work on time. Tomorrow, I'll even have a smile on my face.
I recently asked my family: "if you could live any other life, what would it be?". While I had grandiose visions of myself living as a lesbian journalist in Paris, most of them wouldn't actually change much about their lives. So why am I eternally trying to improve myself by metamorphosis instead of accepting myself for who/where/how/what I am and working with that? Not that self-improvement missions are inherently evil, but I am now convinced that they should follow the course of "minor tweaks" (as my sister-in-law puts in) rather than complete and utter personality overhauls.
For example, I've recently moved into a new house and starting to ride my bike to work. I had visions of myself cruising through the city in a perfectly-placed straw hat and cotton tunic, bottle of wine perched jauntily in my basket. Reality, naturally, is a lot more precarious. When I went to buy wine, I ended up buying snacks too, thus my basket broke from the extra weight and I had to hold it to the handlebars manually. It was unseasonably cold, so I had to augment my cotton tunic with leggings, which ripped during my managing of the basket-to-handlebar ratio. I actually don't own a straw hat, and wouldn't be able to wear one anyway since helmets are mandatory in Halifax. So in lieu of my chosen accessory, I donned a CCM black bicycle helmet (the type quite popular with 8-year-old boys).
The result: less polished, less coordinated, but definitely more ME. So what if I'm not the kind of person who is perennially smooth and coordinated? I should rejoice that I AM the kind of person who rides my bike to work and doesn't let things like helmet hair or lacerated leggings get her down. I still made it to work on time. Tomorrow, I'll even have a smile on my face.
