I Am Not Perfect
I am not perfect. Not even kind of. That should be obvious, seeing as I am a human being, but one of my imperfections is the incessant need to point out the obvious. Like that I am not perfect. And that the world around us is not perfect. And that judging anyone or anything based on some fantasy idea that “it” can or should be perfect makes about as much sense as judging the your love life based on a Disney film.
So let’s get that out of the way, can we?
I am an amazing person. Of this, I am certain. On the grand judgeable scales of degrees of awesome, I have check marks in all the columns, seriously. Smart, sexy, funny, caring, adventurous, open, willing, I can and do cook, I own not only great lingerie but great costumes and wigs of many colors. “Yes” is my favorite word, followed closely by “love” and “fuck” (and I use fuck as every part of speech. Come to think of it, that is both an “awesome” and an “imperfect.”)
I am also a total slob, I suck at anything involving paperwork, and my ability to speak my mind at any point is not one of my best features, I trust way too easily. I routinely get myself in trouble for all of these four of these things, and I have no reason to believe that anything is ever going to change.
Mostly because I don’t really need it to. Well, the slob part, I’m working on that. And the paperwork part, I’m working on that too. Okay, fine, and I’m trying to install a filter so that I don’t speak so freely so often.
I have no interest in changing the trust thing. Yes, I will continue to get hurt because I trust too easily. The alternative, not trusting, is not of interest to me.
So, I am in one of those totally human stages (which will likely last 2 or 3 days, this is day 2) of being relatively certain that the world as I know it, that I have created for myself and filled with so much amazingness I can sometimes barely believe it, is probably about to fall apart on me. When it does, my mind posits and taunts, I will be revealed to be not only incredibly stupid, but false in all regards, destitute of both finance and soul, completely without intelligence or creativity, alone and unwanted, indeed a mockery of the potential that is the human race. The people who once claimed to love and want me will be drinking fine scotch by the fire, in glorious 1940’s attire, speaking in rolling soliloquy while smoking imported cigarettes that do them no harm, because in the 1940’s (and in my imagination) cigarettes are not harmful. This will likely transpire while I am naked, outside, unshaven and wearing nothing but socks and sandals. That don’t match. In the rain. (I mean, true tragedy can only take place in the rain, right?)
Welcome to my humanity. I’m willing to bet that it’s not much different from yours. (Well, mine may have more adjectives. Another one of my imperfections.)
These feelings usually flare up when something that I thought was going incredibly well turns out not to be as easy as it seemed. Or a relationship that I thought was solid was, in fact, based on an idea that someone had of me, rather than being a relationship with the real me. Happens in life, love, work, and even just inside myself. When my imperfections are revealed to me or others, and someone is surprised to learn that I have them. Wants to not only deem me “bad,” but be disappointed in me for being imperfect.
Seriously? If you thought I was perfect, and would always make exactly the right choice (meaning, probably, the one you would make,) then you are revealing a very serious imperfection of your own – a total divorce from reality.
So let’s get this out of the way. I am not perfect. Not even kind of. And neither are you. Wanna know why that’s awesome? I don’t expect you to be. I don’t even want you to be. It would be fucking exhausting to have to be perfect all the time, in any regard.
I have a hard time with people who set impossible standards for themselves. Whether it is religion, or diet, or exercise, or hobbies or….. If I know that you expect perfection of yourself, in order to be satisfied, then no matter how many times you tell me otherwise, I will assume you expect it of me. Because you will. If you even believe that “perfect” is achievable, and worth working towards, then you are likely to spend more time noticing the difference between “now” and “perfect” than you are how perfectly amazing things are.
When you make a mistake, I will not ask “how could you?” I will ask “what did you learn?” That’s what I do with myself, that’s what I ask you to do with me.
One of the thing that makes me the most awesome, (and believe me, there are many things,) is that I am able to appreciate the awesome that is now. That is you. That is me. And when things go wrong, which they inevitably do in one regard or another, I see it as a learning opportunity. When we make messes of things, the act of fixing them up teaches us more about ourselves and our relationships with life and others. And that makes us better. Not on the path to perfect, but on the path to solid. I actually embrace the mess caused by imperfection, because it is fertile. It is were growth comes from, where strength comes from, where “solid” comes from.
From “solid,” we can grow in any direction. I don’t want to be perfect, I want to be growing.
So yes, if you think that I am one of the most amazing people you’ll ever meet, you are right, I assure you. If you think that I am perfect, you are wrong, I assure you.
I am as insecure, confused, neurotic, wrong, and far from perfect as anyone you’ll ever meet.
But my intentions are ALWAYS good. I am kind to my core, open to my core, alive, generous, silly and adventurous to my core. It is those very qualities that sometimes mean I say the wrong thing, or tread water now and then in the ocean of awesome that is my life.
I am human. I am a perfectly imperfect human. And I won’t pretend otherwise. (Nor will I ask you to.)
I will keep learning. (And will ask you to.)