I have quite a history with frustration.

As a wee one, I would lose my EVER-LOVING SHIT if things weren’t exactly as I wanted them to be. I appeared in the world fully expecting it to conform to my whim. When it didn’t, I became confused and upset and, more often than not, a holy terror.

While it must’ve been quite challenging to raise me (sorry, Mom), I’m not sure I want to eradicate that tendency completely.

Because I see the world as a place where we’re all loved, all valued, all supported - simply because we exist, simply because we’re here, and we’re all our own weird and awesome expression of love and divinity. If I hold strong to this vision, the world will rise up to meet me. Kicking and screaming, but it will happen.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I can’t help feeling - all the way down, in the deepest pockets of my soul - that this is truth.

Maybe if we all keep seeing the world that way, it will shift in that direction.

Because we create the world around us. My two-year-old self felt that (and she really wanted a world where her lacey socks never wrinkled - bless my dad for putting rubber bands around my ankles in an attempt to make it so). My 39-year-old self is finally catching up to what I knew as a child.

In the mean time, I’m working on my tendency toward frustration. Because it doesn’t improve anyone’s experience, least of all my own.

Luckily for my personal growth, baffling new laws around privacy policy and the laundromat are helping me out this week.

Thanks, world. You’re constantly doing your utmost to help us humans create your highest possibilities. We’ll keep trying til we get it right.

In the mean time, here is my frustrated face. I’m working on it. At least I don’t throw tantrums in the street any more. Progress!