Present Over Perfect

about. There were so many things I left to other people to
feel strongly about, so much so that I often bent under the
weight of so many other peoples’ strongly held opinions,
tired from having to bridge all the gaps around me.
Truth-telling, though, is both contagious and addictive,
and once you start doing it, it’s hard to stop. All of a
sudden, opinions fell out of my mouth left and right. I knew
so well, so deeply that the areas in which my life went off
course were the same areas in which I had abdicated
responsibility and voice. I did what “people” thought would
be good for me. I did what “should” have been done. I
became what I was “expected” to become. And it did not
get me where I wanted to be.
And so I’m learning to trust my feelings and my strong
opinions, believing that they will be better guides than the
nameless, faceless “they” I allowed to guide me for so long.
Many years ago, at breakfast with a mentor, I articulated,
as best I could at that time, my greatest dream for my life.
She was a great question-asker, and she kept pushing me for
greater and greater specificity. And then what? What would
that look like? Exactly how?
This is what I told her: I want to marry someone who
feels like a partner, a true peer. I want to have little boys,
and live in a house with a blue room where I write, and
when I look out the window in the backyard, my boys will
be playing soccer. When I’m done writing, I’ll go down to
the kitchen to stir something on the stove—a huge pot of red
sauce, maybe, for the people who will gather around our