Sometimes your best just isn’t good enough. I know what I’m talking about here. I was reminded of this when Mister and I were moving a heavy piece of furniture and I kept dropping my end of things. He was frustrated and I could see it. He wasn’t having the same problems with his side, so why was I?
Now I could provide details and diagrams of this particular exercise, but it wouldn’t matter. Truth is, I’m not as strong as Mister. I think we both forget this, and when my girl-arms are being, well, girly, aggravation usually results. I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.
So how do we deal with our best not being good enough? As best we can, I suppose. But doesn’t that just leave us running in circles, chasing our own tails?
Years ago, I was talking with someone about a random situation. She made a comment about an action on my part and I said, “It was the least I could do.” She leaned forward and responded, “Actually, it was the most you could do.”
I’ve never forgotten that exchange, because it is often worth remembering that some (if not a lot) of what we do in life is the most we can do. In certain moments, we may very well be giving the very best of ourselves. Tortured souls like mine just don’t tend to recognize the times when we’ve given our best, when we’ve done the most we can.
Maybe stepping back and seeing my own actions as having been the best I could have done is enough – for me. I’m not going to be as strong as Mister, no way no how. And that’s okay. I’d rather be honest with myself and appreciate the strength I do have than to fret over unattainable Popeye arms.
It’s just gonna make moving heavy furniture a bit more tedious. At least it only has to be moved once.