There aren’t a lot of things that I hate. I try to keep the list short, you know, for the sake of being a loving person. Yet, no matter how much of my love exists, my hate list, I can’t resist.
- I hate rape.
- I hate obnoxious, no-boundary-having drunks.
- I hate the song, “Return of the Mack,” by Mark Morrison.
- I hate making mistakes.
Now I’m not talking about mistakes like Freudian slips, mathematical miscalculations and typos—though, I do kind of hate typos. These kinds of mistakes are bound to happen more often than not…especially, since I kind of hate math too.
What I’m talking about are the kinds of mistakes that highlight my mistaken judgment.
The kinds of mistakes that are avoidable with just a second thought, a second glance, another second of time. The kinds of mistakes that, immediately after I realize I’ve made them, I look in a mirror and ask “Really?” and really expect an answer from the person staring back at me. The kinds of mistakes that feel like another, more stupid brain temporarily inhabited my cranium, and my body was forced to obey the stupidity of its interim commander, only to realize that, nope, it was my brain all along that was giving the stupid commands.
God, I hate making those kinds of mistakes.
Those kinds of mistakes make me want to hide. They make me want to cry. They make me want to point fingers at other people. They make we want to find Doc Brown and a DeLorean so I can remove the “mis-“ from the “take” and have a take two. Eventually, they make me want to stop being melodramatic and focus less on the damage that’s been done to my ego as compared to the actual damage at hand.
(((Mrs. Payne voice))) “Damn! Damn! Damn!”
Clearly, it’s taking awhile for my ego to get the memo. Yet, as I – and my ego – heal from my latest TKO from imperfection, I do notice that my recovery this go ‘round is going a little better than those after my past bouts.
My recognition of my pure soul in the mess midst of my humanity is a little stronger. My tendency to detach and hide from the world is a little weaker. My acknowledgement of my accountability is a little less judgment-driven. My willingness to be gentle with myself is a little more apparent. My fear of my mistake’s repercussions is a little less Michael Bay. My perception of my mistake is a little more Mister Rogers.
Folks, the truth of the matter is that I learn the hard way. Or rather, I learn by doing—“doing” things the hard way. And sometimes, in order for me to really understand a lesson, I have to do it over and over and over again. (Like math problems. Ugh.)
But as I keep learning, after a while, I find myself solving difficult “problems” more easily. Then, with more practice and repetition and teaching and coaching, I arrive at a point of mastery where I can solve difficult “problems” before they become actual problems. And then I write a book.
Just because he says you’re beautiful… is a nonfiction book that I wrote about my dating and relationship mistakes, and the five key lessons that I learned from those mistakes. The book is also the first installment in my aptly titled Head-Smart/Heart-Dumb Girl® series.
Head-smart/heart-dumb girl (n.) – an actual girl or a girl who exists within a woman who is smart in many areas of her life, but dumb when it comes to understanding matters of the heart.
The five lessons that I wrote about in Just because he says you’re beautiful… are ground rules that every head-smart/heart-dumb girl should know:
- Just because he says you’re beautiful doesn’t mean that he’s “The One.”
- “Dating” and “Being in a relationship” are two different things.
- Even good guys can be players.
- You don’t have to sacrifice logic in the name of love.
- Being single is not the end of the world—really, it isn’t.
Of course, I learned these lessons by “doing,” and making a lot of mistakes in the process. And trust me, I hated making mistakes back then even more than I do now. Nevertheless, the Happy Black Woman post taught me (again) this week that mistakes, despite their heart- and ego-breaking forms, are essential to our mastery of life.
In other words: If we didn’t have problems, we wouldn’t know that we have the power to solve them.
Copyright © 2014-2016 Stephanie Rochelle Redd. All rights reserved.