Loving the Mess I make

"I love you , but I don't love your mess" - My mother.

For about as long as I've been able to say "I love you" to my mom, this has always been her reply.

But for as long as my mom has been saying that , I have in fact been a mess.

I am late and will and have frequently stained my clothes right before major occasions - tea stain on my shirt on my first day of work, chocolate milk

I am somewhat messy and will take a long time to get things into "order" or what other people refer to as order (I'm organized... in my own way".

I am not disciplined. I will work hard when I must and I have. But , I will never have the rigidity to tireleslly to train myself to adhere to a certain set of rules. This

I think people spend too much time trying to work themselves out of this hiccups. We want to life and ourselves to be neat , tidy, organized, in perfect balance. But despite this life is messy and complicated and random and in flux. And so are we.

I'm not going to get on a high horse saying you guys need to stop worrying about these things. They are important and you may in fact become happy when things are perfectly placed. But, what I will say is that you will get a whole lot better at rolling with the punches when you accept that YOU are a mess. When things go wrong, when I stain my new shirt or trip over my own two feet in front of strangers, I bounce back. I laugh it all. Into my acceptance of my messiness is a built in, rubber forcefield allowing insulation from self-hatred, toxic perfectionism. I think this is self love at core. I love myself and I love my mess, not despite it.