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Get it right

The tub was beautiful. She stepped into it and laid down. It felt just as she had imagined yet something was just not right. But, it was right enough.

“Stop finding fault.” Her words echoed in the unfinished bathroom. “Why can’t you be content, it’s beautiful.” She didn’t want to be a naysayer. And it was beautiful. The builder had done a remarkable job translating her vision into reality. How could she expect such perfection? Being such a perfectionist threatened her happiness, why would she taint all that she had by being fixated on this one detail? It was a character trait, a flaw. She saw the flaws in herself clearest of all, often so blinded by the defects she missed the good stuff. Letting go of the mismatched tub surround should be an exercise in behavior modification. Learn to be content. It is good enough.

“But it isn’t right.” She said aloud as she got out of the tub and dusted off her backside.

It takes a certain level of courage to address the small inconsistencies. Like in quilting, a millimeter of error adds and accumulates until the pattern is distorted. Precision matters, attention to details effects outcomes. If she can’t speak up for herself and her dream when the dream is being built, when would she speak up? If she is compromising her own vision because the critic in her head chastises her for being too particular, when would she ever find the courage to defend her most precious dreams, those dreams she holds close, like a bouquet of hand picked dandelions puffs clutched in the fists of a little girl in a too big dress with bare feet and skinned knees?

“But it’s your house!” The words came from the brash and blunt little girl who often spoke before she thought; she stomped her foot. Her fists tightened around the imagined dandelions and puffs fell away and floated off.

So she spoke up. She apologized. She didn’t want to cause trouble or be a hassle. She brought a possible solution. She didn’t like being difficult or being thought of as difficult. And the small, micro act of courage to defend herself, to speak up in her own defense felt like lifting a garbage truck. She felt embarrassed, she should be satisfied. Wasn’t everything else enough?

“No!” The petulant child shouted inside her head. “It’s not want I want!” And that was the truth. The tub surround was wrong. It didn’t match. The patterns in the floor tile and the marble tub top and the tub surround clashed. She hated it. She hated the tube surround. It was wrong. The floor was right. The marble was right. Those were original choices. The tub surround had been a hasty selection, a substitution. And it was wrong.

So she spoke up. She apologized. She didn’t want to cause trouble or be a hassle. But she wanted it changed. It had to be changed.

As she drove home, the little girl inside her felt happy. She had not needed to be loud and brash. She had made a simple statement and had spoken her mind. And she had been heard. It was a small act of courage, a tiny act of self-defense. Every small act adds to the next and builds her new reality, it builds the castle meant for a princess even if that princess is a little sassy and has bare feet and tangled hair.

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