Oops. Paint it again.

Steady…steady…annnnnd now there’s paint all over the window frame.

Growing up in my household, the colors of walls and the placement of furniture was constantly in flux. You put more than one Walton woman in a room? A couch is being moved, dressers are being rearranged, a measuring tape is getting pulled out of a drawer, and color swatches are being picked out at home depot the next day. One philosophy the Killer B’s and our mother live by? Never, under any circumstance, use painters tape.

On memorial day, my sisters and I painted my dad’s office (our gift to him for his birthday), and just like all those childhood room redecorations, the trim takes patience and a steady hand. Picking out paint early in the day, piling fresh rollers and trays into the cart, Brittany and I made a joke about how, “Painters tape is for babies.” Except we didn’t use the word babies. Our teasing was less about criticizing people who tape up the trim and more making fun of our own blind confidence. Unfortunately, blind confidence seems to be another thing the Walton women do not lack. 

So, in keeping with tradition, we spent the day covering the walls in dark blue paint–the ceiling, too. Despite painting the trim, our brushes still met with window panes and hardwood floors, begging for false confidence to be rudely disproved. A listen through ABBA’s discography and the new Djo album saw us through to the end of our imperfect show of artistry. I wish I could say that without painters tape that no mistakes were made, not a single swipe of color amiss, but that would be a lie. Painters tape is for babies because part of making an adult decision is living with the consequences of your own actions. Ok, so, maybe I’m going a bit too far in terms of moral takeaways, but I am what I am. 

The thing about paint is that the risk is worth the reward. That is to say, the stakes are low. Low risk, high reward. And if you hate the color? Oops. Paint it again. But, to settle for boring, beige walls simply because you’re afraid you’ll choose wrong is a worry far better left to more serious matters. The thing is, you might choose wrong. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. Do it without the safety net, without the pressure for it to be perfect. 

That’s what throwing out the painters tape allows. It makes it okay to make mistakes. It makes your best effort good enough. To some, taping up the edges might feel like the best effort–the surefire way to get as close to perfection as possible. The experiment of trusting yourself, and forgiving yourself if (when) it goes wrong is actually a practice for living that we don’t get often. Can we let a crooked edge acquaint us with our own humanity? Can we do it poorly until we do it well? 

I get why an attention to detail matters, I really do. The thing is, I’m a grown woman. I’m fairly confident in my ability to paint an almost straight line. I’m not making a bet with bad odds. I’m saving time and money by holding myself to a standard of ‘fairly decent’ rather than ‘flawless.’ I wish I lived more of my life that way. How often do I quit before I even begin, simply because I’m not an expert yet. 

Newsflash, I’ll never be an expert at anything if I never do anything at all. Not that expertise is my primary goal (sounds a bit boring, actually) but still, I have enough ego to want to be good at the things I do. I care whether The Trash Day Tribune is poorly written (keep it to yourself). I care whether I hit all the notes when I’m singing a song. That care doesn’t guarantee perfect pitch or perfectly articulated thoughts. It leads to practice.

I had a professor in college who started an art collective called, “Practice Makes Practice.” That simple phrase captures the anti-painters-tape gospel I’ve been preaching. To keep trying and failing and trying again for its own sake is what builds us into more compassionate, more resilient people. How freeing is the idea that perfection doesn’t exist? The paint job might not be perfect and yet the world keeps spinning and your heart continues to beat.

Your couch might look better on the opposite wall. That piece of art you love might have the wrong color frame. Or maybe, you’re just bored and need to mix things up. Either way, what do you have to lose? Your pride? An unwavering belief that you aced it on the first go? Humility begins to taste sweeter the more you taste it. Own the imperfection you create with a willingness to do it better next time. 

Throw the tape into the trash and allow yourself to observe–and contribute to–the messiness of living. For me, trust doesn’t manifest as being timid; that’s not who I am. Trust is believing I am capable and accepting the consequences should I fail. And so, I will practice and practice and practice in low risk, high reward situations. Forgoing painter’s tape to bring life and beauty to my environment–this time, my dads office–and forgiving the spot of navy paint that will live forever on my parents’ hard-wood floors. Let’s just hope they forgive me too.