A work in progress

Somewhere this year, I realised I wasn’t very easy to live with.

For a long time, I thought being particular meant being intentional. I liked things done a certain way. I noticed details, I planned ahead. Somewhere along the way, I started expecting the same things from the people around me. When they didn’t move the way I did, I’d feel irritated. Sometimes disappointed. Sometimes quietly frustrate….and I didn’t realise it then, but it was creating distance.

Being honest, it wasn’t easy to change. There were days I had the urge to step in, to correct, to take over. I still have those moments. I still like things a certain way. And I don’t fully know where that comes from. Maybe it’s my need to do things myself, having control, or it’s just how I’ve always been.

When I host, for example, I love being involved in everything. Not because I don’t trust people, but because I care deeply about how things feel. I don’t want the experience to be off. So I take on more than I should. I let only a few people help. I divide responsibilities carefully. It’s something I’ve done my whole life. And I’m not sure I’m ready to let all of that go yet.

What changed this year was my awareness. I started noticing patterns. How some relationships felt strained. How certain friendships faded. Not suddenly, but slowly. And for the first time, I didn’t blame timing or distance or the people. I looked at myself, and realised that trying to perfect things often meant trying to perfect people too.

So I stopped controlling every outcome. I allowed small disappointments without reacting to them. I let people show up in their own ways, even when it wasn’t exactly how I would have done it. I paused instead of correcting. I listened instead of fixing.

Even with gifts, I used to tell people exactly what to buy for me. This year, I didn’t. And what I received felt warmer. Because it wasn’t about getting the right thing, but more about being known.

It wasn’t easy. And I’m not done.

I still have moments where I want to take over, fix, adjust, refine. Maybe I always will. But maybe this year, I’ll learn where to loosen that grip too. Or maybe I’ll learn which parts of me are allowed to stay.

I don’t have a clean ending for this, just the knowing that becoming easier to live with is a process. One I’m still in.

And for the first time, I’m okay admitting that.