#Reverb13 is a prompt-a-day series for the month of December that is meant to give participants the chance to reflect on the past year and take the opportunity to write down some hopes for the coming year.
Prompt 11: What just didn't work out this year? Is that OK with you? Or are you going to try, try again?
Failure is always easier to admit in others than it is in oneself, but without our failures, we wouldn't know our success. And even if I'm not "OK" with my shortcomings, they are what they are, and I need to use them along with my successes to try to be the best Me possible.
A few Fails of 2013:
I Can't Do Math -- last year, I thought I'd run 700.4 miles in 2012. Turns out, if I had actually, oh, like checked numbers or something, I'd have realized that in 2012, I actually ran 427.7 miles. That's a difference of over 270 miles, so it's a really good thing that I'm an English teacher and not trying to prep America's youth to try to add things.
As such, you'd think that my more miles goal would also be a failure, but as of the end of November, I've still run more miles in 2013 than I did in 2012, despite my injuries.
This is probably my best failure this year.
Parenting Means Always Digging Yourself Out of a Hole -- every time I lose my patience, temper, or cool with HRH, I feel like I'm failing as a parent. Not that I expect every day to be like this:
But when I raise my voice or use sarcasm as a response, I certainly don't feel that I'm living up to my potential as a parent or a role model. This year, as HRH continues to grow into her full size attitude, I've been working on taking a deep breath and walking away (metaphorically) from the situation in order to resolve the standoff peacefully, with as few tears (from both of us) as possible.
It's a work in progress.
I Doom Socks -- I'm not even sure how it happens, but I go through socks like nobody's business. Usually it's at the toe, but I discovered a pair this morning that were missing their heels. Both of them. Why on earth did I even put them back in the drawer? Why did I even wash them and not just chuck them, for that matter?
But this isn't an admission of my failure to throw things away. We'll discuss my hoarding tendencies some other time. I think some of my friends are bringing a banner.
Yes, I maintain my paws, getting semi-regular pedicures and doing at-home up-keep in between times. No, I don't let myself get gnarly long nails, because that's just gross. And while Husband tells me every time he sees that I have yet another hole-y pair that I've got horrible Hobbit feet, I really try to take care of my feet, since without healthy feet, I'm sitting at home instead of out for a run.
But as sock weather is once again upon us, I've realized that almost every single pair of socks I own that are Not For Running Socks could use a good darning at best, or need to be tossed in the trash at worst. As for For Running Socks, those are on a regular rotation from drawer to trash bin every few months.
I mean, seriously. I don't even wear socks for most of the year here in Arizona, so how on earth does my purchase of a pair mean a certain death sentence for them mere months later?
OK, OK. So that last one isn't really a failure failure in the same category of not being able to do simple math or faltering as a mother. But if I can't make light of my failures, I won't be able to revel in my triumphs.