The art of fixing things ---

I fancy myself a pretty handy woman.

When I was hired as a Personal Assistant in 2007, I fixed my boss' bathroom sink - my first day on the job. Not really very Personal Assisty, just...well - I saw a need and fixed it.

Achieving a nearly perfect score on the Mechanical Engineering-ish section of the ASVAB aptitude test http://www.military.com/join-armed-forces/asvab in High School, I understand how mechanical things go together, how the cogs line up to make something move. I deconstruct items mentally, it satisfies me to know how things work.

My need and drive to fix is very central to who I am as a human being. I enjoy systems that chug along the track - making their appointed stops - and then continue on. I find myself near certain that almost anything can be fixed and if it's too far gone -- toss it -- get a new one.

I spend a lot of time thinking about relationships between people. Myself : others and others : others. Thinking about how certain parts don't work, and how they can be repaired. I'm highly communicative when my need to fix is stimulated. I often wonder if it's exhausting to be in any type of relationship with me when I am in this mode. I talk and I process and I dig for clues. I research. I attempt to find common ground.

My compass for what works in relationships is flawed. At least that's what my therapist tells me. Not flawed = wrong. Just flawed to the extent that I soon need to accept that I cannot fix you. I cannot fix the relationship problems in my family, I cannot fix the problems in my marriage, I cannot fix my kids, or my coworkers, or my friends.

I deeply crave peace and understanding. Tolerance over speaking one's every thought. My empathy meter is painfully sensitive.

There is only one person on the planet I have control over, and she is typing this right now.

The stress I feel over things that are outside of my sphere of influence is absurd. The  discomfort I feel when I observe people not listening to each other is all encompassing.

Know that while I observe you from my own lens; it's focus adjusted for my own eyes - I am listening. Even if it's outside of what I understand. I'm listening. Because I want to help. I want to fix.

But some shit just isn't fixable.
Perfectionism is absolutely exhausting and I think I'm finally ready to hang it up.
I just want to be better than I was yesterday.
More loving, more understanding, more kind, more enlightened.

That's all. It's that simple.

The rest will fall away as it will. I cannot tend everyone's garden because it's a full time job keeping the weeds out of mine.

I'm putting away my toolbox and sticking my hands into the dirt.