The other night I stood staring at my face. My forehead suddenly jumped out at me (I suppose it can be hard to miss). But really, it was the lines that running across that area that gave me pause. How and when did those wrinkles get so deep and so numerous?
As I looked at my wrinkled reflection I realized almost every expression I made, big or small, resulted in a crinkling of my forehead. Unless I wanted to spend the rest of my days with a stone face it seemed the lines were inevitable. I slapped some wrinkle cream on my face and called it a night.
Bangs might be in my future.
Just as I was wrapping up my thoughts on the lovely wrinkles, I glanced down at my striped shirt, noticed a small hole, and sighed deeply. This poor shirt was now one of a dozen in my closet that had recently developed small holes. The culprit? Hard to know. The internet provided countless reasons for my holey shirt, but none of them seemed to make sense in my situation. I quickly tucked my shirt into my pants and left the room.
The tattered look is in, I think.
A wrinkled forehead and holey shirts are annoying. I would much prefer smooth skin and undamaged clothing. But you know what?
A wrinkled forehead and holey shirts are also small things.
There was a time in my life when small things would really get me down. I would see a small problem, and it would nag at me. As the nagging continued, the problem would slowly get bigger. Before I knew it, I was frustrated and miserable because of what was once the smallest little annoyance. I had quickly let a little problem get out of control, and it had gotten the best of me.
I don’t want the small things to get me down anymore. The more I travel through life, the more I am (slowly) learning to let go. I’m learning to embrace what once tripped me up.
A wrinkled forehead is a sign of a life lived with plenty of emotion.
Holey shirts remind me that stuff is stuff, and it doesn’t last forever.
A broken dish.
A dead car battery.
An overcooked meal.
A missing book.
A late appointment.
A bad haircut.
A traffic jam.
They’re all troublesome and sometimes problematic, but they aren’t worth very much of my time and emotional energy.
I still have plenty of moments when I am on the couch wiping my tears and burying my face in a pillow because of some small thing that has gotten the best of me. I still have days when I waste hours fretting about concerns that won’t matter in a week. I still have times when I can’t move past an issue that really should be a non-issue.
I still have these moments. It still happens. It does.
I just want it to happen less and less.
These are small things, and I don’t want to spend my life—a life that goes so fast—stumbling over the small things.
So, yes, I will snarl at my wrinkled forehead—but not for too long (that will just worsen the problem). I will buy more shirts to replace the holes in my current wardrobe, or just start a new trend. But I won’t let these problems take up too much space in my mind and in my heart. I won’t.
I have a life to live.