Last week I read a few posts on perfection (you can read them here and here).
And they got me thinking.
I'd already been struggling with this issue and had contemplated a post about it several times, but the words wouldn't come. Now they're flowing easily.
I often feel incredibly inadequate. I'm so tired all the time that I pysically can't spend as much time with my kids as want. And I can't manage to keep my house as clean as I'd like.
I'm not strong enough to stand up to my mother and demand that my household be run by my standards instead of hers.
I can't control my body - it refuses to cooperate with my efforts to be healthy. And with my weight out of control, it's wreaking havoc with my self-esteem (which wasn't that great to begin with).
But why?? Why is my self-esteem so horrible??
I am a good person. I give of myself to others. I'm a great friend. I may not be the world's best mom, but my kids know that I love them and accept them for who they are without prejudice.
I take care of my mother to the best of my ability and I'm a damn good secretary.
I'm even relatively nice to my ex!!
I should feel proud of myself. I should feel like I am worthy of anything that comes my way.
Instead, there's a part of me that's convinced that I deserve the many miseries that have happened in my life.
Because I, like so many others, want more. And because I believe in perfection.
Even though I know that there's no such thing.
We are all so convinced by facades. So when we see the beautiful, thin mother of two immaculate and quiet children, we wonder why we can't have her "perfect" life and never stop to think about how there's no way that it's perfect.
Because there is no perfect.
Maybe she has a miserable marriage, or money troubles. Hell, maybe she has an eating disorder so that she can stay that thin, maybe she's a bitch and has no friends. It doesn't matter what it is - there is something that makes her and her life less than perfect.
Everything is balanced.
Maybe I do have a crappy ass boss.
But I have a job.
Maybe I have trouble with my mother.
But I have a mother who loves me.
Maybe I struggle with my weight.
But my children don't.
Maybe I'm tired.
But I'm alive.
And that's enough.
How can it not be??
Two years ago, I found out how short life is when I almost lost Bean, the love of my life, my soul-mate.
Life is too short to worry about not being perfect.
It's too short to compare yourself and your life to someone else's with dissatisfaction.
Every life is blissfully imperfect.
And it's time we revel in that.