“Pictures of perfection make me sick and wicked.” – Jane Austen through personal correspondence
…This post was meant to be about allowing ourselves to fail, and how important that is – how there is reason in our failures – as much or more than in our successes. Thomas Edison “failed” creating the light bulb 10 000 times before finding success.
What this post has become… a glimpse into my day-to-day “failures”. As much as they irk me today, I realize now, they’re almost meaningless tomorrow… It’s just. real. life…
We need to see more of the “real”.
I do it to myself. Hold myself to this impossible standard. No one is perfect. We cannot be perfect. Or can we? No. Why do we think we can?
I feel the need to apologize for sweatpants, untidy hair and unwashed dishes in the sink… I’m perfect at apologizing.
I’m at the park and someone comes over to meet the babies. I feel the need to explain why there are remnants of strawberries all over their faces… I’m perfect at explaining.
I lay in bed at night tossing and turning, kicking myself for not cleaning the bathroom like I said I would. I realize I left a load of wash in the washing machine. I roll my eyes and tell myself I’ll wash it again tomorrow. Always tomorrow… I’m perfect at procrastinating.
I’m complimented on my perfect family. Looked at with awe and respect – or maybe I’m mistaking those looks for pity/sympathy. They ask me how I do it. How do I accomplish so much?
Well my to-do lists tell me I’ve accomplished nothing. And that birthday party I forgot to RSVP to happened yesterday… I’m just hoping Zach forgets. I’m perfect at forgetting.
I love my kids. I love my husband. I love our family. I love my life. I think I’m doing “my best” – at least that’s what they deserve. Is my best good enough? I’d like to think so… But there is this tiny voice inside of me telling me that it’s not perfect. And because it’s not perfect, the voice tells me I am failing.
Thank goodness I have 16 other little voices inside of me talking all at once — makes it easier to ignore that 1.
Let’s stop striving for “perfect” and settle for “real” (I’m telling this to all 18 of the voices inside my head) or we will indeed drive ourselves “sick and wicked”.