Good Enough

Painting has been an ongoing project since I bought and moved into my home (which was a big deal in and of itself. This place is mine, just mine. I love that. It feels safe and right and makes me feel like such a grown-up). First, there was the overall paint job, which a friends brother actually helped me with in such a huge way (I may or may not have provided the underage youth with a few cases of beer in exchange for his efforts, but I’m not owning up to anything!) but then came the edging. I am bad at edging. I am very bad at edging. I don’t care what tools or techniques you have to offer up, I can’t do it.

I have tried. Since last May I have painted and repainted in a constant effort to find perfection. Unfortunately, this is one arena where my perfectionism is in direct confrontation with my complete and utter inability to accomplish the task at hand well. I am lacking the patience required to go slow. I don’t move that slow; I like to be consistently plowing forward. I’m great at home projects when they keep me learning, working, and thinking about the next step (I loved teaching myself how to re-do all my lighting), but painting is just the same tedious move over and over again. There is something to be said for how calming painting can be to me (it’s possible I may need a little repetition to focus on from time to time to keep my mind off the less stable facets of my life), but the adverse effect occurs when my perfectionism gets in the way of my horrific painting skills and I get frustrated.

Well, I am here to tell you: I am officially throwing in the paintbrush. After about 20 different layers on the edging (in every color, in every room) I am calling a truce with my walls and giving up. This paint job is as good as it is going to get. The ex used to make fun of my truly awful edges (it really did look like something a 3rd grader had done at one point there), and maybe that’s what motivated me to keep trying. He’s not going to be checking up on the work now though, so I am retiring as a painter. I’m tempted to throw away the paint so that I don’t wind up convincing myself in the middle of the night some night to touch up “just that one spot”, but no. I’m simply going to put it down in the garage and forget about it. For once in my life I am going to have to be OK with “good enough”, because this isn’t getting any better unless I find myself a baby daddy who also works as a professional painter!

Speaking of the ex, I saw him today. He pulled up next to me at a light when I was on my way to work. I knew it was his truck, but it was dark and I was just hoping he hadn’t noticed me. No such luck though. When I looked over he was grinning and staring and waving. For reasons I cannot even explain, the simple fact of him acknowledging me and waving pushed me so over the edge that I flipped him off. Even as I was driving away, I kept trying to figure out why I had done that. You have to understand that I am not that girl. I can almost always pretend like I don’t give a shit, even when I really really do. I immediately texted his sister and told her that I had officially lost my ability to interact as a normal human being. I was ashamed of myself, but not ashamed enough to apologize to him.

As I was driving away from the scene of the bird flip, this song came on:

Slipknot isn’t usually my go-to band, but this is why I love music so much. There is a song for every occasion, feeling, and moment in life; no matter what. I was driving away (irritated with myself for being so irritated by his mere presence) and this is what comes on. It was the exact right time because in that moment it was exactly how I felt about him (so hurt and angry and sad all at once). In actuality (the rest of the time beyond that moment), I don’t know how I feel. I cared about this guy a lot; I would have thought we would have always at least been able to find a way to be friends. It’s hard to see him though. It’s hard to pretend like he didn’t completely and totally break my heart. This is the guy I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with; the guy I thought I was going to have a family with (long before I knew that I may not be able to have a family at all, which just makes it that much harder now when the pressure is on). I don’t actually want him to disappear, but he’s the one who decided he couldn’t be anything to me. He completely blew me off when I needed him, so I wouldn’t mind it if I didn’t see him for like 2 years, and if by that time I was happy, and had a baby, and had flat-out forgotten his name! That’s what I get for moving to a small ass town though, where everyone knows (and talks shit about) everyone else, and without fail you will always run into the one person you want to see the least. Somebody want to remind me what I was thinking when I did that?

It gets easier, right? I’ve been let down plenty in my life, but not ever by someone I made the conscious decision to let in. I’ve never really had my heart broken by a boy, it kind of blows…