Last night I tried something that I have never done before, a painting class. If there is one thing I can say I’m not with absolute certainty, it would be artistic. Looking back I never remember being good at any type of crafts. In fact, as a child, my least favorite class would have to be art. But, I realize that it’s important to push myself to do things I am not good at and things I purposely avoid. Those are the very things that make us grow the most and teach us the most about ourselves that we desperately need to face and know. The painting was a tulip scene. The first step was painting a sun. I laughed hysterically after class because if I did this activity at age 5 or 6, my sun would probably look exactly the same. Next, we were told to draw stems. To be honest, this was the hardest step of the whole project. I could not, no matter how much I tried, paint a fine straight line. I could feel the uncomfortable insecurity start to creep in. It settled in my shoulders and I could feel myself sinking lower and lower in my chair. I actually contemplated stopping right then and there and not picking up another brush. Something crazy happened right about that same time that made me chuckle to myself. Good Lord, if I was going to let something as silly as painting a fine line stress me out, how would I make it through a seriously stressful event. I decided I didn’t care what my painting looked like. I was going to relax and have fun creating whatever the final product would be on the terrifying white canvas. The more I relaxed, the better I painted. And…I even started to enjoy myself. I love discovering new things about myself and conquering constraining insecurities. I love to grow so much that I feel a little bit taller with each tiny bit of growth. Sometimes, it’s okay not to be perfect. It’s okay to be terrible at something and do it anyway. It’s okay to laugh at myself and do something that makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s okay to display a painting that is less than amazing. It’s even okay to feel proud that I finished a painting at all. What do you think? What is the last thing you did that really made you feel insecure and uncomfortable?