Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Tough love

I did a painting at art on Saturday. I wasn't happy with it and kept reworking it. In the end I knew I couldn't change it.

My art teacher thought I was being way too hard on myself.

I was.

I'm not a perfectionist when it comes to anything - especially domestic chores - but I always want to be my best self when anything I produce is at stake, whether that is children, art, my writing, my work ... all of it.

I have no idea why I am like this.

I have always been serious. Too serious to play an angel in the school Nativity Play when I was 5. Too serious to work in an office where we were meant to leave our problems at the door and smile. Too serious for lots of stuff.

But life is serious. Yes I complain about injustice and half-arsed attempts at anything. What's wrong with that?

We are all different. I know I'm crap at keeping house, Excel spreadsheets, fake anything...but I'm good at lots of stuff.

My grandfather is 109 and has become something of a media star of late. As far as I can see he is just being himself. Telling the world to "keep your nose clean" and reassuring all and sundry that things will work out.

Technology has changed during his life but not much else has. If you are part of a family group you are blessed.

The secret to his long life? Waking up in the morning, having a shower, having breakfast and keeping moving. I follow this same philosophy, even on my dark days of depression.

It's better than the alternative.

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