When I recovered from postpartum depression, I felt as if I had reached the top of a summit and had done all the work I would ever need to do on the Personal Transformation Front.

I was wrong.

I was finished with cognitive behavioral. I did not need to meet with my psychologist every week to confirm that I had a handle on motherhood. And I had indeed conquered the beast that was postpartum depression. But I was no where close to finishing my work on the Personal Transformation Front.

And I never will be.

This is the thing I have learned the past few months: I am either actively transforming myself or stagnating. And by “stagnating,” I do not mean “staying the same.” I means “rotting and festering and turning into a pond that is so slimy, even the frogs are grossed out and seek out shinier puddles.”

I don’t want to turn into a stagnant lifeless pond, my water evaporating until I’m not much more than a mess of mucky leaves. I want to be a river, flowing and glittering and moving forwards and onwards, turning bends and crashing down the sides of mountains.

So I am accepting the fact that I am a Work in Progress and that I’ll never have some epiphany that turns me into a finished perfect manuscript. I’ll be forever working on me, myself, my issues, and the meaning of life. And that’s okay.

Actually, being a Work in Progress is better than okay. It’s amazing.