Am I Doing This the Right Way?

After my youngest child finished with high school and left for college last fall, I was faced with an "empty nest" and an opportunity to embark on a new career. For nearly twenty years, I had been a home educator and advocate for other homeschoolers, but that work was over for me. I felt both excited and terrified as I explored different job options.

Doing something new is scary. Of course, doing something new can be exhilarating, too, but feelings of joy and excitement aren't usually a problem. It's fear that threatens to stop us in our tracks. Not knowing for certain whether or not we're doing something the "right" way is so disconcerting, especially when we care deeply about the intended outcome. Raising kids, educating them (at home or in a formal setting), providing guidance of any kind to another person—in each of these situations, making a mistake can be painful or even devastating.

So I think we can be forgiven for trying to do everything we can to avoid mistakes. It's not at all unreasonable to read instructions, follow directions, and chart a course that seems as certain to succeed as possible. Choose the safe path.

As a young adult, I liked the safe path. I had already experienced plenty of chaos and instability as a child and adolescent, so my goals by the time I graduated from college were to minimize risks, avoid embarrassment, and choose the safe route whenever possible. If you had asked me at the time, I would have denied it—I wouldn't have been able to tell you those were my goals—but looking back on my life now, I realize I rarely took chances on making big mistakes. I planned and prepared for everything meticulously, and I avoided actions that felt risky, unfamiliar, or uncertain.

High Stakes, High Levels of Uncertainty

My neat, organized life began to unravel when I became a mother—and I'm referring to the precise moment my daughter was born. Predictable and "in control" didn't really apply to childbirth, so letting go was really my only option from day one. Not that I let go easily or willingly. I read lots of books and tried to do everything "right" as a parent, but having a baby with colic who wouldn't sleep and wouldn't stop crying forced me to admit: there is no "right" way to calm a baby. You just have to try one thing after another and hope that eventually something will help.

And so it was with homeschooling. I started out thinking, "If only I can find the 'right' curriculum, all will be well in my homeschooling family," but I learned that wasn't true. There was no perfect fit, no one-size-fits-all program for us. Homeschooling, like life in general, was an ongoing process of trial and error.  It wasn't easy. My mistakes—such as introducing a difficult concept too soon, insisting we study a particular topic, or providing too much or too little guidance—led to messy conflicts and me wishing I could avoid all the pain and just get it right on the first try.

When the stakes are high and the outcome matters very much, it's hard to make peace with our own limitations.

Inevitable Messes

Of course, getting it right every time all the time would have required me to be perfect, and that was (and still is) an absurd goal. Fortunately, while I couldn't be perfect, I could be tenacious and open to possibilities. Over time, I discovered that the more I challenged myself to go "all in" and take chances, the richer and more rewarding my life became. I gradually became more comfortable with all kinds of messes: from the paper, crayon and play-dough messes that toddlers squash underfoot, to the wrinkled fenders of teenage drivers, to the emotional wrecks that adult relationships leave behind. If I had fought to avoid those inevitable messes—insisting on a perfectly neat house, a car that stayed in the garage, and carefully screened friendships—I would have missed out on opportunities to learn patience, practice compassion, and deepen my feelings of empathy and connection with others.

To be clear, I still don't enjoy not knowing whether I'm doing something the right way. While I've heard the cheerful anecdote about Edison and his "2,000 ways of how not to make a lightbulb," and I know the story is meant to inspire, I'm not consistently upbeat when it comes to my own mistakes. If I had been Edison, I would have cursed out loud and kicked myself hard after each one of those not-a-lightbulb attempts. I don't claim my pride is an admirable quality, but in general I prefer to get things right on the first try.

Helping Imperfectly

Recently, when I was editing pages for a writer who is eager to get published, I was afraid I might give her poor advice. So I did what I always do: I planned and prepared as much as I could beforehand. I gathered information, consulted with other editors, and thought carefully about the best way to present my feedback. Inevitably, though, I reached the moment when I had to trust myself and send a response.

I could hear the nervous voice in my head saying, "Are you sure you're presenting this the right way? What if you create a big mess and lead the writer astray?" But there were other voices (sounding a lot like my children) asking me, "How much help will you be to this person if you give up without trying? And if you bungle the first attempt, why not apologize and just try again?" Buttressed by past experiences and current networks of support, I made my final edits, took a deep breath, and pressed Send.

Words of Encouragement

I want to encourage others who, like me, struggle to accept the messiness of life. It doesn't matter whether your goal is to make a friend, draft a persuasive essay, teach a child, or write a book. Whatever your aspirations, it's unlikely you'll succeed perfectly the first time you try, but don't let that stop you.

Go ahead and try anyway. Solicit feedback. Evaluate as you go. And if you ask yourself or others, "Am I doing this the right way?" don't be surprised if the answer you get is vague or unsatisfying. Maybe your way is right for you but not for someone else, or maybe it was the right way in the past but it isn't the right way now.

So be brave, make your very best attempt, and humbly admit to your mistakes before going back to try again. If we can be patient with each other, learn to tolerate or at least see the value in temporary messes, then perhaps fewer people will fear their own mistakes. We have to keep trying, failing, and trying again. We don't have to enjoy failing, but we do need to recognize that it's an essential part of living. How else can we be expected to discover for ourselves what works and what doesn't? Even if we don't always manage to reach our loftiest goals, at least we won't have given up too soon.