I wanted to propose a toast at my sister's wedding, but I hadn't told anyone about it, and I decided I couldn't quite trust myself after a couple of glasses of wine. I very frequently have issues in placing a filter between my thoughts and my mouth, so I have been known to make a complete tit of myself. The last thing I wanted to do was to make a tit of myself and to embarrass anyone else by giving, ultimately, an impromtu speech in front of two dozen people. But if I had stood up and spoken, these were some things that I would have wanted to say.
I would have wanted to recall how R and I spent afternoons teasingly giggling about how we were "already planning L and A's wedding" when they had only been together a few months. Because the thing is, we weren't just blindly giggling and being teenager-ish (though, admittedly, in hindsight, that too). Rather, sometimes, when two people know, it is so obvious that such giggling and planning is not uncalled for, because it is simply exciting.
I would have said how A.A. Milne's 'Us Two' always makes me think of them, probably because of something L said to me early on in their relationship: "I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he, "I'm never afraid with you." L is entirely confident and incredible when she is not with A. With him, she becomes even more so; so it is delightful to see how much they complement one another.
I would have remembered how early on in their relationship, L failed a test, and was rather upset. R and I tried to cheer her up with Starbucks and 10 Things I Hate About You and more cups of tea, to little avail. And then A simply said, "Look, I know - we all know - you are the most intelligent person in the room" with a hug. And that was enough. This would not be a criticism of tea in moments of need, but rather that the right person at the right time can make anything okay. And that A has always been so, so proud of her.
I'd have wanted to say how happy I am to see how happy they make one another; how nice of a relationship they have. How relaxed they are with each other and with others. How lovely it is to see them go off on adventures together; and how happy I hope that they will keep being. I would have told them that I am so pleased that A can put up with mum and me, when we are our delightfully loopy selves; and embrace them because they are just part of L's life, and do so with enthusiasm and good spirit. And I would have wished them a mountain of happiness and a lifetime of laughter.
Here's to their next adventure and their lifetime together.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Lessons from my dad.
Dear Pinou,
For weeks now, I've been receiving emails from East Coast, Megabus and BritishAirways (how telling of my life that the emails I have subscribed to receive are all transport-related...) telling me to "treat my dad this Father's Day!" And so, I gather it is Father's Day here in England.
I have written about you in various places many times in the past 10 months; probably because I've been missing you more than I had before, so telling you all those things again seems repetitive. But I wanted to acknowledge today as a day of being thankful for being the daughter of a father. So I thought I would share some of the wisdom I learned from you; because they are only a few of the things that made you incredible. And I thought it would maybe make you proud to know I'd picked up on them.
Try harder, and when it doesn't work, try again. - It was 5th grade when you were called in to talk to my maths teacher. I was getting between 0.75 and 2 out of 5 in these tests we had every few days, and you knew it wasn't because my brain couldn't cope with it. You knew it was because I wasn't trying. To be fair, the teacher did too. And when you told me as much, it wasn't with disappointment or anger; just misunderstanding. "You are smart, Ana. You just seem to live through the law of minimum effort." And for once, that approach wasn't enough; so you told me to try a bit harder. You sat with me and explained theorems and logic to me. Thales, Pythagoras. How to measure the side of a building from its shadow. How to understand exponents and pi. You sat with me and were patient with me, and when you didn't know how to explain, you encouraged me to look things up. The following year I started getting A's in maths: I'd tried.
When you were ill and told you'd have only a few months to live, you pretty much laughed at them. "Screw that," you said, "I'm going to try to beat this." They tried a few treatments, and when they didn't work, you said "try something else." When they said, "no, sorry, we've run out of options." you still said "screw that, I'm going home." I may or may not have given you a stern talking-to in hospital to help with that, but you did. You came home. You tried.
So always try. And if you fail, try harder. Relatedly -
Do yourself proud. - When we started running track in PE, I told you I couldn't keep up. I remember you telling me you'd never been sporty, that I shouldn't worry; but that I should make myself proud by trying. And I did. I plugged in headphones, listened to music, and repeated to myself, "What would Buffy do?" and kept running. And when I realised I'd done it, I was proud. As were you.
I know your biggest fear was that in leaving, you'd be letting us down. I hope you know that you never, ever, not even for one second, did that. You made us so, so proud to call you Dad. Or, Pinou, because of course.
You taught me many other things; like how being cheerful will brighten other people's day. You taught me to be assertive and tell people when they are talking nonsense. From you, I have been learning, slowly but surely, to trust my voice.
"Trust your voice." - You told me that when you were ill; when I was ill; when we weren't talking properly anymore. When I was afraid of telling you how I felt. When I was afraid of loving you strongly because I thought I might break if you died. When I tried to take back the fact I was gay. "Trust your voice. Speak your truth." I've been finding my truth, dad; I've been finding who I am. And it is in those moments that I feel closest to you. In those moments where I catch glimpses of who I am becoming, and recognise you in me. From my appalling sense of direction - you should see me attempting to navigate my way around Leeds! - to my fierce love for those in my life. From my enthusiasm for science and my attraction to smart, intelligent, assertive people. From my inability to sing in tune, to the way I love the smell of coffee. From the number of books I seem to have acquired, to the way I apparently drive more confidently when I'm blasting Dire Straits from the stereo. From the way I ask sixty thousand questions, to the way I mess up - fabulously. From the way I interact with people I'm not related to, to the way I love our family.
Daddy, you taught me to love fiercely, unapologetically and enthusiastically. You taught me to trust who I was, who I would become. You taught me to be kind, to be gentle. You taught me to speak up. You taught me to ask questions, and suggest answers. You taught your eldest daughter to look out for her little sister, and boy, did she ever. You taught us to be patient, to get angry, to be ambitious. You taught us to be curious, to be inquisitive, to not fear doctors. You taught us the value of speaking up and the value of sitting back. You taught us to walk in the rain, and sing out of tune. You taught us to laugh hard and enjoy friendships. And, in the end, you taught us how to hold on tight to see what we must, and then, when the time comes, to let go.
Daddy, I learned so much from you, from watching you, from spending time with you. And in the same way as I hope you know that you made me - us - so proud to call you Daddy; I hope we make you proud too.
I'm pretty sure we do.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. Pinou. You.
Thank you for the lessons. And thank you for loving us. It was an honour to call you Dad.
Love always,
Ana
For weeks now, I've been receiving emails from East Coast, Megabus and BritishAirways (how telling of my life that the emails I have subscribed to receive are all transport-related...) telling me to "treat my dad this Father's Day!" And so, I gather it is Father's Day here in England.
I have written about you in various places many times in the past 10 months; probably because I've been missing you more than I had before, so telling you all those things again seems repetitive. But I wanted to acknowledge today as a day of being thankful for being the daughter of a father. So I thought I would share some of the wisdom I learned from you; because they are only a few of the things that made you incredible. And I thought it would maybe make you proud to know I'd picked up on them.
Try harder, and when it doesn't work, try again. - It was 5th grade when you were called in to talk to my maths teacher. I was getting between 0.75 and 2 out of 5 in these tests we had every few days, and you knew it wasn't because my brain couldn't cope with it. You knew it was because I wasn't trying. To be fair, the teacher did too. And when you told me as much, it wasn't with disappointment or anger; just misunderstanding. "You are smart, Ana. You just seem to live through the law of minimum effort." And for once, that approach wasn't enough; so you told me to try a bit harder. You sat with me and explained theorems and logic to me. Thales, Pythagoras. How to measure the side of a building from its shadow. How to understand exponents and pi. You sat with me and were patient with me, and when you didn't know how to explain, you encouraged me to look things up. The following year I started getting A's in maths: I'd tried.
When you were ill and told you'd have only a few months to live, you pretty much laughed at them. "Screw that," you said, "I'm going to try to beat this." They tried a few treatments, and when they didn't work, you said "try something else." When they said, "no, sorry, we've run out of options." you still said "screw that, I'm going home." I may or may not have given you a stern talking-to in hospital to help with that, but you did. You came home. You tried.
So always try. And if you fail, try harder. Relatedly -
Do yourself proud. - When we started running track in PE, I told you I couldn't keep up. I remember you telling me you'd never been sporty, that I shouldn't worry; but that I should make myself proud by trying. And I did. I plugged in headphones, listened to music, and repeated to myself, "What would Buffy do?" and kept running. And when I realised I'd done it, I was proud. As were you.
I know your biggest fear was that in leaving, you'd be letting us down. I hope you know that you never, ever, not even for one second, did that. You made us so, so proud to call you Dad. Or, Pinou, because of course.
You taught me many other things; like how being cheerful will brighten other people's day. You taught me to be assertive and tell people when they are talking nonsense. From you, I have been learning, slowly but surely, to trust my voice.
"Trust your voice." - You told me that when you were ill; when I was ill; when we weren't talking properly anymore. When I was afraid of telling you how I felt. When I was afraid of loving you strongly because I thought I might break if you died. When I tried to take back the fact I was gay. "Trust your voice. Speak your truth." I've been finding my truth, dad; I've been finding who I am. And it is in those moments that I feel closest to you. In those moments where I catch glimpses of who I am becoming, and recognise you in me. From my appalling sense of direction - you should see me attempting to navigate my way around Leeds! - to my fierce love for those in my life. From my enthusiasm for science and my attraction to smart, intelligent, assertive people. From my inability to sing in tune, to the way I love the smell of coffee. From the number of books I seem to have acquired, to the way I apparently drive more confidently when I'm blasting Dire Straits from the stereo. From the way I ask sixty thousand questions, to the way I mess up - fabulously. From the way I interact with people I'm not related to, to the way I love our family.
Daddy, you taught me to love fiercely, unapologetically and enthusiastically. You taught me to trust who I was, who I would become. You taught me to be kind, to be gentle. You taught me to speak up. You taught me to ask questions, and suggest answers. You taught your eldest daughter to look out for her little sister, and boy, did she ever. You taught us to be patient, to get angry, to be ambitious. You taught us to be curious, to be inquisitive, to not fear doctors. You taught us the value of speaking up and the value of sitting back. You taught us to walk in the rain, and sing out of tune. You taught us to laugh hard and enjoy friendships. And, in the end, you taught us how to hold on tight to see what we must, and then, when the time comes, to let go.
Daddy, I learned so much from you, from watching you, from spending time with you. And in the same way as I hope you know that you made me - us - so proud to call you Daddy; I hope we make you proud too.
I'm pretty sure we do.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. Pinou. You.
Thank you for the lessons. And thank you for loving us. It was an honour to call you Dad.
Love always,
Ana
Saturday, June 01, 2013
Thankful.
My friend Viv offered a homily for a service held at MCC in Boston a few weeks back; and part of what she wrote (the full text being here), included this:
"When it becomes apparent, obvious that there is nothing we can do, that we are clearly beaten, there will still be God, creator, redeemer, sustainer, who is lifting up the lowly, who is pulling the mighty down from their throws, who feeds the hungry and sends the rich away empty. It may be unlikely, but it will be done."
And it resonated with me so much.
Sometimes, things go wrong. Sometimes, they are small things; like walking into a coffee table repeatedly, thereby bruising your shin; or spilling coffee down your front on your way to the office. Sometimes, slightly bigger things go wrong: your parent's job is threatened and you can do nothing about it. Sometimes, even bigger things go wrong. Sometimes, even though nothing major is wrong, you have panic attacks that wake you up three times a night and leave you paralysed and unable to function properly the next day. And sometimes, things you are really excited about just don't work out; like the possibility of a new relationship.
It is in those times that I am learning to lean on God, and remain thankful in the breakdown; to "spin it into a good thing", if you want. Because in the end, "there will still be God."
Spill coffee on yourself? Be thankful you had coffee to spill. Walked into a coffee table? You're a dork with the ability to walk. Mother's job is in turmoil? It's a chance for her to finally look into doing what she wants to do with her life, and make positive changes. A potential relationship doesn't work out because of reasons beyond your control? Be thankful that you got to feel butterflies and excitement and ecstatic about the possibility of falling in love with someone again; because -
So I am trying so hard to be thankful; to give thanks. Because I have no reason to not be thankful of the life I have, of the life I have been building here. I know, still, that I am exactly where I am meant to be, even though I am not entirely sure why, yet. And so for that, I give thanks.
I am thankful for dates and kissing in train stations and excitement about people; even when it then doesn't work out. I am thankful for a job which allows me to talk to so many different people. I am thankful for work colleagues who offer me support when I need it. I am thankful for friendships made through work and out of work. I am thankful for my little flat, and sunny days, and rainy days, and friends who message me to invite me to their house when I'm having a rough time. I'm thankful for music and hugs. I am thankful for the ability to plot adventures to travel. I am thankful for school friends and university friends and friends I met online ten years ago who I am still friends with. I am thankful for my amazing family, who has gone through ups and downs and who is changing and growing.
I am thankful for growing up.
And it resonated with me so much.
Sometimes, things go wrong. Sometimes, they are small things; like walking into a coffee table repeatedly, thereby bruising your shin; or spilling coffee down your front on your way to the office. Sometimes, slightly bigger things go wrong: your parent's job is threatened and you can do nothing about it. Sometimes, even bigger things go wrong. Sometimes, even though nothing major is wrong, you have panic attacks that wake you up three times a night and leave you paralysed and unable to function properly the next day. And sometimes, things you are really excited about just don't work out; like the possibility of a new relationship.
It is in those times that I am learning to lean on God, and remain thankful in the breakdown; to "spin it into a good thing", if you want. Because in the end, "there will still be God."
Spill coffee on yourself? Be thankful you had coffee to spill. Walked into a coffee table? You're a dork with the ability to walk. Mother's job is in turmoil? It's a chance for her to finally look into doing what she wants to do with her life, and make positive changes. A potential relationship doesn't work out because of reasons beyond your control? Be thankful that you got to feel butterflies and excitement and ecstatic about the possibility of falling in love with someone again; because -
"Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to, and love leaves exactly when love must. When love arrives, say, “Welcome. Make yourself comfortable.” If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her. Turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper, “Thank you. Thank you for stopping by.” (Sarah Kay, 'When Love Arrives')
So I am trying so hard to be thankful; to give thanks. Because I have no reason to not be thankful of the life I have, of the life I have been building here. I know, still, that I am exactly where I am meant to be, even though I am not entirely sure why, yet. And so for that, I give thanks.
I am thankful for dates and kissing in train stations and excitement about people; even when it then doesn't work out. I am thankful for a job which allows me to talk to so many different people. I am thankful for work colleagues who offer me support when I need it. I am thankful for friendships made through work and out of work. I am thankful for my little flat, and sunny days, and rainy days, and friends who message me to invite me to their house when I'm having a rough time. I'm thankful for music and hugs. I am thankful for the ability to plot adventures to travel. I am thankful for school friends and university friends and friends I met online ten years ago who I am still friends with. I am thankful for my amazing family, who has gone through ups and downs and who is changing and growing.
I am thankful for growing up.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
"When love arrives" - Sarah Kay
"Maybe love stays. Maybe love can't. Maybe love shouldn't."
That is all.
Monday, April 29, 2013
It's okay to not be okay.
It was around about 7 pm today, when I ended up in tears in the office that I realised I needed to write this post. Because I had started the day with a super cheerful dance to Grace Potter and The Nocturnals' "The Lion, The Beast and The Beat"; and yet it got to 7 pm, and I was doing Financial Reporting coursework, having finished work-work, and I started to cry.
Nothing had happened. In fact, the coursework was easier than the other half that I had done over the weekend had been; and I'd had a reasonably productive day, and the sun was still shining, and yet suddenly, I started crying.
And when you end up in tears at work when even one other person is there? (Especially if the someone is a manager you get along with well?) You end up having to use some words to say that actually, you're struggling a bit with being a grown-up; even if you don't know how to phrase that, or what it is about being a grown up that you're struggling with.
And that right there is the point of this.
Sometimes, you have days when you are not okay. Days at a time, full weekends, full weeks, even. Days when you wake up paralysed at the thought of doing things. Days when you feel you have so much to do, but cant't seem to get started; so you just lie there, your head willing you to move, and just not being able to. Days when, apparently, you make toast and forget about it, and only find the toast a whole week later when your sister comes to stay. (True story.) (There were tears upon finding the piece of toast.) Days when you have preemptively set your alarm about 2 hours earlier than it needed to be, because you knew you'd probably have to just lie there for 2 hours to talk yourself into getting up.
And the thing is: that is okay.
Because then you have days when you roll out of bed and you think, "HELL YEAH! I'VE GOT THIS." And those are the ones that mean you keep moving forwards.
You've got this.
Here is to remembering it is okay to sometimes not be okay. It is okay to ask for help. It is okay to cry in front of people you really don't want to cry in front of; because if they are half-decent human beings, they will ask how they can help.
You've got this.
Yes, you CAN.
Promise.
Nothing had happened. In fact, the coursework was easier than the other half that I had done over the weekend had been; and I'd had a reasonably productive day, and the sun was still shining, and yet suddenly, I started crying.
And when you end up in tears at work when even one other person is there? (Especially if the someone is a manager you get along with well?) You end up having to use some words to say that actually, you're struggling a bit with being a grown-up; even if you don't know how to phrase that, or what it is about being a grown up that you're struggling with.
And that right there is the point of this.
Sometimes, you have days when you are not okay. Days at a time, full weekends, full weeks, even. Days when you wake up paralysed at the thought of doing things. Days when you feel you have so much to do, but cant't seem to get started; so you just lie there, your head willing you to move, and just not being able to. Days when, apparently, you make toast and forget about it, and only find the toast a whole week later when your sister comes to stay. (True story.) (There were tears upon finding the piece of toast.) Days when you have preemptively set your alarm about 2 hours earlier than it needed to be, because you knew you'd probably have to just lie there for 2 hours to talk yourself into getting up.
And the thing is: that is okay.
Because then you have days when you roll out of bed and you think, "HELL YEAH! I'VE GOT THIS." And those are the ones that mean you keep moving forwards.
You've got this.
Here is to remembering it is okay to sometimes not be okay. It is okay to ask for help. It is okay to cry in front of people you really don't want to cry in front of; because if they are half-decent human beings, they will ask how they can help.
You've got this.
Yes, you CAN.
Promise.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
"NOTHING CHANGES IF NOTHING CHANGES"
Warning: this post will read rather cryptically to some, because part of it is not my story to tell. However, they are thoughts I need to get out on "paper", as it were; and so, here we are: cryptic blog posts which, if you know me in real life, are not that cryptic anyway.
I started writing this in November, after a sermon in church on 2 Kings 7:34: "3 Now there were four men with leprosy at the entrance of the city gate. They said to each other, “Why stay here until we die? 4 If we say, ‘We’ll go into the city’—the famine is there, and we will die. And if we stay here, we will die. So let’s go over to the camp of the Arameans and surrender. If they spare us, we live; if they kill us, then we die." But I was too afraid at the time to follow through with what I was going to say I was going to do, and put off this post.
Because, you see, until just over a year ago, I had been wondering what to do about a particular situation for a long time. I had been unhappy for a long time, but because I had felt that the moments of happiness - and various other feelings - which broke up the undercurrent of unhappiness were enough to outweigh it, I hadn't ever had the courage to do anything about it. Moreover, doing something about it would have meant admitting that I had been wrong to get into that particular situation start with; and that was something that my pride could not deal with.
However, just over a year ago, a series of events combined to push me into doing something about it. And so I tried to do something about it. It was painful and awkward and frustrating and wasn't able to happen in the way I had wanted it to happen, and I was never sure if what I did had been understood. But I was certain I had extracted myself from the situation.
Except that I hadn't. Not really. Immediately kept myself busy with other things: a wedding first, then being in Another Country, meeting friends, working a lot, and then suddenly... travel! friends! concerts! meeting new people! more travel! strange encounters with people! more travel! planning a New Life! moving to New City! new job! new people! kissing! friends! so much studying! exams! dates! more exams! more travel! running! church! ALL OF THE THINGS! I thought, hey look at me, being an adult and moving on with my life and moving forward and all of the things!
And because you are filled with courage, and they seem to have moved on too, you think, hey, maybe I'm finally ready to talk about things. Again.
Until one day you wake up and you realise that in spite of an attempt to make a Big Change and follow through with it and getting out of a situation which is absolutely not right for you and is killing you and is simply not making you happy, you haven't entirely let go of the past; but that you need to, because "Nothing changes if nothing changes" and you are miserable once again because you’ve fallen into a similar situation. Again.
My first entry on this blog was about lessons I had learned in 2012. They were all about moving forward, and not surrounding yourself with people who bring you down. I firmly believe, will all of my might, that that is what I should have been doing, and kept doing. Because when you try, after time apart, to communicate with someone, but you end up mis-communicating with them repeatedly, in a way which is reminiscent of the reasons you had for leaving that situation in the first place; you end up right back where you started.
And so you have a choice:
Either you stay in limbo, waiting, again, for something to change, while being continuously underlying-ly miserable - again.
Or you take charge, following inspiration from Kings, following the lessons of a God who doesn't let you go: "If we stay here, we die!" said the lepers from Kings. "If we go, we might die too!" "Oh well," they decide, "at least we'll have tried!"
And so you decide that you've had enough of it, and that you will try something new: change. And you give the other parties involved an ultimatum, and when they don’t meet it, you follow through with change. Because you decide that, in spite of how hard it is for now, and how drastic it may seem to the other parties involved, you will change. Because you are miserable as things stand. So you decide that you will plough through with option two; with all that it involves - including finding a way to let go of the past entirely - and change.
"Nothing changes if nothing changes."
Here is a toast to facing fears and to jumping in with both feet.
Here is to freedom in change.
Here is to change.
Friday, March 29, 2013
"Mistakes are going to be made."
Earlier in the week, I received some constructive criticism over a piece of work I had done. It had been my first attempt at it, and though I hadn't been given much guidance, I didn't ask many questions, because I genuinely thought I knew what was expected of me. As it turned out, I wasn't entirely sure, and so when it was reviewed, parts of it had to be re-done; which, obviously, was not the most efficient use of my time.
To say I am unaccustomed to dealing with criticism would not be entirely accurate, but it is also true that until then, most of the feedback I had received had been positive. And it is also true that I have been known to be rather defensive when I am criticised; seeking to justify why I have done or said something, whatever that something is.
So I had to try to face things differently this time; and here are three things that helped:
one. having a lovely manager who knows how to interact with people helps enormously. She didn't start by listing out everything I'd done wrong, with no opening. She sat down next to me and asked if we could talk about the assignment. She started by praising another section of my work. And then she didn't say that what I had done was rubbish-no-good. Instead, she suggested I look up a couple of examples of how other people approach it, so as to understand what it was about. She explained where I'd gone wrong, and heard me out when I explained that part of why I'd done something one way was because I thought it made sense because X, Y and Z. She even engaged with that, acknowledging the logic in the thought process, but let me know that 'no, we can't do that, though I understand why you'd think that'.
two. The following quote from The West Wing kept going through my head: "Mistakes are going to be made. Minimize them, fix them... move on." (From the episode 'Mandatory Minimums' in season 1, in case anyone fancies watching it!) Instead of what I would have been tempted to do a while back (which is to think, at length, about what I'd done wrong and how I should have done it differently and so on and so forth), I thought, "Ok, I made a mistake. How can I fix it? How can I not make it next time?" Over an over, I kept reminding myself, "Minimise them. Fix them. Move on. Move on. Move on."
three. Today, I came across a sign: "Don't look back: you're not going that way." And I had to laugh. Because, yes. "FORWARD."
I looked over my work, bearing in mind the criticism. I recognised the mistakes that had been pointed out. I thought of how to correct them. I went on a course about how to do the task - which, admittedly, may have been useful before I attempted the task. I learned how to do it. Next time, I will ask more questions, I will try harder, and I will have learned.
"Minimize them. Fix them. Move on."
I'm moving on.
To say I am unaccustomed to dealing with criticism would not be entirely accurate, but it is also true that until then, most of the feedback I had received had been positive. And it is also true that I have been known to be rather defensive when I am criticised; seeking to justify why I have done or said something, whatever that something is.
So I had to try to face things differently this time; and here are three things that helped:
one. having a lovely manager who knows how to interact with people helps enormously. She didn't start by listing out everything I'd done wrong, with no opening. She sat down next to me and asked if we could talk about the assignment. She started by praising another section of my work. And then she didn't say that what I had done was rubbish-no-good. Instead, she suggested I look up a couple of examples of how other people approach it, so as to understand what it was about. She explained where I'd gone wrong, and heard me out when I explained that part of why I'd done something one way was because I thought it made sense because X, Y and Z. She even engaged with that, acknowledging the logic in the thought process, but let me know that 'no, we can't do that, though I understand why you'd think that'.
two. The following quote from The West Wing kept going through my head: "Mistakes are going to be made. Minimize them, fix them... move on." (From the episode 'Mandatory Minimums' in season 1, in case anyone fancies watching it!) Instead of what I would have been tempted to do a while back (which is to think, at length, about what I'd done wrong and how I should have done it differently and so on and so forth), I thought, "Ok, I made a mistake. How can I fix it? How can I not make it next time?" Over an over, I kept reminding myself, "Minimise them. Fix them. Move on. Move on. Move on."
three. Today, I came across a sign: "Don't look back: you're not going that way." And I had to laugh. Because, yes. "FORWARD."
I looked over my work, bearing in mind the criticism. I recognised the mistakes that had been pointed out. I thought of how to correct them. I went on a course about how to do the task - which, admittedly, may have been useful before I attempted the task. I learned how to do it. Next time, I will ask more questions, I will try harder, and I will have learned.
"Minimize them. Fix them. Move on."
I'm moving on.
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