I Don't Care

When you learn not to care

"I don’t have to be perfect. All I have to do is show up and enjoy the messy, imperfect and beautiful journey of my life. It’s a trip more wonderful than I could have imagined."—  Kerry Washington

I decided several years ago that I just don’t care.  I don’t care about the holiday baking which takes three full days, the decorating which takes even longer, I don’t care about finding the perfect gift or making sure I get Christmas cards out.    I don’t care if I have a holiday party or if I go to holiday parties and I don’t care to spend weeks finding the  perfect holiday outfit.   

I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment it happened but at some point the lip service I gave to not caring about perfection, became genuinely real in me.  At some point what I  longed to truly feel and  believe became an actual layer and not one I was just desperately trying to make fit.  Somehow it actually became a part of me.

And with it I said good bye to some things. Gone are the frantic days and weeks of preparation with the constant ball of doom in my belly, which comes with knowing it will never be done or good enough anyway.

So maybe I will miss some things and in a few I might regret not sending those Christmas cards or finding the perfect widget.  Maybe.  It hasn’t happened yet, but it could.   I may wish I had cleaned up a little bit more before the doorbell rang or that I didn’t suddenly notice all the things in my house I still haven’t gotten to since last year. So far I have been ok with this.  I have replaced those crazy rituals with something else, things which have had a much bigger impact on my life.

The things I have decided not to care about, the things I have decided to allow to exist in messy imperfection in my life?  Those things by allowing them to stay just as they are, allow me experiences which can’t be found anywhere with a price tag.

One of my favorite pictures from Christmas last year is one of me rolling around on the floor with Tanner as he opened his presents.  At 13 he didn’t move as fast as he once did, but for 13 years he taught me how to open presents with so much excitement that what was in the package became secondary.  It didn’t matter to him that these were just new food dishes, as he shredded paper frantically uncovering them, he was thrilled with getting to open it!

 This year, my heart felt heavy as I thought of last Christmas when I had all three of my dogs here.  Tanner said good bye this summer and just before Christmas Maggie delivered her puppies as scheduled, which means she won’t be home for another few weeks yet.  Her presents, the toys and treats wait for her return so she can rip into them. 

Christmas Eve, I looked at Ellie feeling so much gratitude for her presence but sadness in missing my Mags and Tanner.  I am quite sure Ellie understands human language, well at least my human language.  Thankfully it has been witnessed  by other people which saves me from being sent for a psych eval. 

Given her incredible ability to sense my emotions and take care of me  I should not have been surprised that she insisted on being within touching distance of me the entire night.  As I curled up on the floor as my family I started to exchange gifts, she positioned herself so her head was near mine, her chin on my shoulder. 

Earlier in the afternoon I had received a text from my brother, my mom wouldn’t be meeting me at church as planned.  She had choked on something and after a scary few minutes was fine, but was tired and resting. She would still make it for our family celebration but was going to take it easy for a bit.  My initial emotion, a combination of gut clenching horror, thinking of the what ifs and sadness that she would not be next to me in church. This  quickly gave way to incredible gratitude for the outcome.  Had the outcome been different,  how much would any of the decorations, gifts, or cooking have mattered? 

So when my mom arrived at my house Christmas Eve, I made sure I wasn’t rushing around doing last minute things.  I helped my brother carry things in and got her settled.  When I was in the middle of doing something and she wanted me to open a gift bag right now, instead of being impatient with her, I opened the bag.  I didn’t get bows on the gift and the darkness hid how I hadn’t gotten around to dusting.  Instead I shared the moments with her, sitting in the glow of the tree lights.

These are the moments I care about, these are the experiences I will look back at and remember.  When I reflect on years past I can’t remember most details.  The ones I spent hours obsessing over.  But I do remember rolling around with Tanner on the floor, helping him open his gifts, and this year I will remember Ellie’s head on my shoulder and sitting with my mom .

My house is trashed, my cookies came from a store package and my gifts barely wrapped.  I didn’t get around to sending Christmas cards and in fact still have a stack of cards I need to open yet.  I don’t care about any of it.  Life is pretty damn good in the moments I have decided I do care about and the ones I will hold in my heart.