It’s two in the morning, and Daddy is ready for bed. It hasn’t been a particularly difficult day, but it has been a long one. This morning I ate breakfast then read a hundred pages in a book, which was relaxing. Then I walked to the bank and am pretty sure I missed the opportunity to speak to my future husband as I passed him on the sidewalk because I had my damn earphones in. (Oh well, maybe next time.) Afterwards I spoke to the insurance agent of the guy who hit my car (with me in it) almost a year ago, and that was my big accomplishment for the day. I had a confrontation.

“I don’t need you to understand,” I said, “I need you to do something about it.”

Needing to cool off after the phone call, I went for a run in the middle of the hot, humid day. (Ironic, I know, cooling off by getting hot.) Anyway, it must have worked. Forty-five minutes later, I didn’t give a shit about the insurance company–all I wanted was a glass of water.

And by water I mean Heineken.

This evening I hung out with my friend and former roommate Justin. We went to dinner with some mutual friends, then back to his house for drinks, conversation, and more conversation. (We both like to talk.) Get this shit–we were together for seven hours tonight. Seven hours! Y’all, that’s like a job–practically a full day’s work. But really, that’s pretty typical for me and Justin. We’ve known each other forever and usually have marathon catch-up sessions.

Tonight at dinner I gave Justin a look about something, and later he told me what he got from it. Y’all, he nailed it–like three things I was thinking from one look. I know I’m being vague about it now, but the point is that we decided the reason Justin could read me so well was because we’ve spent so much time together. Whether non-verbally or in conversation, we can cut through a lot crap with each other because we’ve invested time, money, and attention into our friendship for well over a decade now.

High price, but high payoff.

I share this story because the idea of work and reward has been on my mind recently. I have new dance students who get frustrated that they can’t spin as well as I can. I try to explain that I’ve been working on my spins for nearly twenty years now (holy shit, I’m old), but I don’t think the gravity of that statement really sinks in. For twenty years–off and on–I’ve been spinning in my kitchen, across my living room, up and down various dance floors. When I had the studio, students would come in an hour a week, but I’d be there ten or twenty, practicing while I taught. It’s not that I consider myself a fabulous spinner–I could be A LOT better–but the idea that someone coming in “off the street” should get the reward of good spins (if you want to call it a reward) without putting in the work–ridiculous.

Personally, I too get frustrated when I don’t get results as soon as I want them–in writing, in health, in relationships. And yet the things and people who mean the most to me are the ones that have grown slowly, a little here, a little there. Perhaps I’m starting to get okay with this, starting to show myself some grace. Last night I dreamed that I was playing baseball as an adult. (I haven’t played since I was kid.) My coach in the dream was screaming at me, “You should be doing this better. You should know more.” And whereas I’d normally agree with him (I’m a recovering perfectionist), I said, “Hey, asshole, calm down. I haven’t played baseball in thirty frickin’ years. I think I’m doing pretty great, all things considered.”

My inner coach–what an asshole, indeed. Maybe we all have that, that voice that tells us we should be doing better than we are, that inner jerk who compares us-just-starting-out to someone else who’s been doing it for decades. I’m growing weary of that voice that demands perfection right this minute. And since I can’t find a single person or thing that I value in my life that hasn’t required slow, consistent hard work and practice, I’m less and less interested in quick payoffs and instant benefits anyway. Plus, it’s just not possible for me to be any better (or worse) than I am in this moment. So I’m working on acceptance. Because all things considered, I am doing pretty great. We all are.