I hesitated when I wrote the description for my Trail Mix Letters because it didn’t sound professional.
To add an -ish on the end meant one thing to me. Unreliable. No, I take that back. Adding the word -ish represented a whole slew of characteristics I normally would never want my name associated with.
Inconsistent.
Lazy.
Under-performing.
Fickle.
Irresponsible.
Flaky.
Erratic.
I took a few reflective moments to work through my issues with this little -ish. Why did, “Subscribe to my Weekly Letters” sound more convincing but less honest?
I could feel –ish begging me to stay. It whispered to me about my need to sound professional and deliver on my weekly promise every 7 days, while, sadly, forgetting the process of life.
Life doesn’t work on our strict timelines or fit neatly into our planners, and in one-thousand ways it tries to remind us every day.
And that’s when I realized -ish to me stood for the values I hold most dear.
I know many people are attracted to the confident folks who come through every Friday regardless of anything going on in the world.
But those aren’t my kind of people.
Give me all the ishy people. People who cancel, who reschedule, who change their mind, who aren’t afraid of their emotions, who don’t shy away from the complexities of life, who often contradict themselves.
-ish makes space for the unplanned adventures, the contradictions we hold, the in-betweenness of life, the unpredictability of being human.
Who would have thought these three little letters could speak so honestly about our earthly existence?
I am a good-ish mother.
I am grateful-ish.
I love to wake up early-ish.
My husband and I have a thriving-ish marriage.
I am a confident-ish woman.
I try to write daily-ish.
I find it odd we try to make ourselves appear more than we actually are, when we all know, everyone is human when they go home. They too wear old t-shirts to bed, have smelly farts, yell at their children, struggle with indecision and hypocrisy, wonder about the purpose of life, and drink milk straight from the refrigerator jug.
It seems impossible to declare myself distintly one way or the other, lest I forget I am everything in between too.
It seems impractical to swear I’ll be here or do that by a certain time, when what I really mean is, I’ll try my best.
Thank you -ish for keeping us honest and human and surrendered to the uncertain and iffy parts of life.
