The Grace of the Unfinished

I’ve always carried this quiet urge to tie things up neatly. Conversations, projects, even my own feelings. I want them resolved, understood, and put in their proper place. There’s comfort in closure. It makes me feel like I have control, like I’m not leaving loose threads behind.

But life isn’t neat. Lately I’ve been noticing how much of it is unfinished. The unanswered text. The half-read book. The dream that hasn’t materialized. Even within myself, questions I can’t yet answer, parts of me that still hurt, a version of me I haven’t fully grown into.

Last month I read this quote, and it made me think for awhile.

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and your creative work."

My instinct is to rush through it, to fix, to figure it all out. Yet the more I push for resolution, the more restless I feel. Some things simply won’t be wrapped up on my timeline. And maybe they’re not meant to be.

I’m starting to see that the unfinished parts of life aren’t failures. I like to think they’re invitations. An unfinished project is an invitation to keep creating. An unfinished conversation is an invitation to listen more deeply next time. An unfinished version of myself is an invitation to keep living, learning, unfolding. Everything has its own timeline, but sometimes that timeline doesn't have a deadline.

Letting things be unfinished is uncomfortable because it forces me to sit with the unknown. But maybe the unknown isn’t my enemy. Maybe it’s the space where possibility lives.

Today I’m practicing loosening my grip. Letting the book stay open on the table. Letting the question remain unanswered. Letting myself be in progress.

Because sometimes, the most honest thing I can admit is: I don’t know yet. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.