Day 8: Share something you struggle with.
My father used to tell me
not to waste time on anything
I wasn’t good at.
No one touched the first meal I cooked,
but devoured my brownies.
After two days of scraped ankles and banged up knees,
I retired my bike with one training wheel still attached.
My brother was better at drawing,
but I was better with words
so I was allowed to keep them.
I scribbled them on scraps of paper,
stashed them in drawers and under the mattress
in case someone tried to take them away.
“Choice” is a strong word.
My hobbies were decided based on trial-period results.
I learned to love my hobbies,
because productivity is our love currency.
(The more useful you are,
the more beloved.
I have never felt beloved.)
I never learned how to enjoy,
how to be bad at something,
how to be okay with being bad at something,
how to be okay with the possibility
that I might never be good at it,
how to forgive myself
how to do it anyway.