Ok. Let’s talk about being perfect.
No one is.
There, I said it.
I want to be perfect, but I’m not. As you probably know, via my whining on facebook, last week was my birthday. I’m 27. As in, officially late twenties as opposed to mid twenties. I take my birthday every year to feel sorry for myself for no good reason. It’s what I do.
I love new years eve for it’s new beginnings and wonderful reflection, but for some reason, when it’s only me, when it’s just my day, it turns out to be a harder reflection.
I tend to like change, I just don’t like to go through it alone. See, at the end of the year, everyone is measuring up what happened, what they want to change, setting goals and making plans. My birthday, a mid-way point through this annual everyone-get-their-shit-together time, is always a harried, unwelcomed reminder that I haven’t really worked on what I said I would. I usually spend a few days/week to sulk and then I get my shit into power mode.
This year was the hardest one for me. So much so that I shut you out, because I knew I didn’t have the energy to pretend. But I am not apologizing for shutting you out. I am apologizing for not having enough faith in you to know that it’s okay to tell you the truth, even if it isn’t sunshine and puppies.
Because you’re not perfect either. And you can relate. Sometimes, transition sucks. Sometimes it’s exciting and glamorous. This life transition I am going through, it’s real. It’s chipped fingernail polish, not enough sleep, finding the elusive work-life balance, opening your heart to new people, reengaging with those you love, and taking deep breaths. This is real life, with real life feelings.
It’s beautiful and raw, exhausting and worth it. And it’s the hardest life transition I’ve ever had, because there is no real goal. There isn’t a finish line, there isn’t a tangible metric that shows success. It’s life. There is no next step, there is no 5 year plan. There is today, and tomorrow, and yesterday. I am a tomorrow person. And working to achieve something for today is hard for me. But I know I need to do it, I know it will make me better, happier, and stronger – more appreciative, and more relaxed.
I can do this. So can you. It might take us 16 batches of waffles, a bucket of wine and a gnarly hangover, but we will get there. I am sorry for underestimating your ability to understand that I am just plain tired. Turns out, you’re just plain tired, too. Please accept my apology in the form of bourbon ice cream and caramel waffles.
- flour - 1 3/4 cups
- sugar - 2 tablespoons
- baking powder - 4 teaspoons
- salt - 1 teaspoon
- eggs - 2, separated
- milk - 1 3/4 cup
- vegetable oil - 1/4 cup
- caramel - 1/4 cup
- whole milk - 1 cup, for ice cream
- heavy cream - 3/4 cup, for ice cream
- brown sugar - 1/2 cup, for ice cream
- egg yolks - 6, for ice cream
- sugar - 2 tablespoons, for ice cream
- salt - 1/4 teaspoon, for ice cream
- vanilla - 1/2 teaspoon, for ice cream
- bourbon - 3 tablespoons, for ice cream