I never thought I’d get there, but here I am.

Imperfect is enough. 

I think it started in school when I could read and study and answer all the right questions.

Perfection. 

Then, in my teenage years, I eliminated fat from my diet and held tight to being small.

Perfection.

And, in my adult years, I ran the marathons and birthed the blonde babies.

Perfection. 

Until, one day, it all came crashing down.

Because, you see, perfection cannot protect you from the real pain of life – the relational kind. 

The lies.
The grief.
The rejection. 

And I sank…for years.

Until I chose to embrace the imperfect of everything that was – of everything that will be.

Here’s what helped me strive for whole: 

1. I started forgiving myself. No one had the crazy expectations I once held for myself. When I fell short, I replaced guilt with grace. When I disappointed, I learned to apologize and no longer carry the weight.

2. I identified unhealthy escapes and try my best to avoid them. I had to face some uncomfortable truths about myself, and I had to redirect my coping mechanisms. Therapy, writing, and prayer are my safe places of healing.

3. I learned to appreciate my imperfect. The mistakes I have made help me love better. The pain I have felt helps me listen better. And life continuously puts someone in my path who needs those hard lessons and my truth. The cracks are how the purpose gets in. 

So, as it turns out, perfect is an elusive promise that I have yet to see life deliver on. 

But, in right now, we can be grateful for the messes that turn into miracles.

Because they don’t ruin our lives.

They reunite us with the reason we’re here.

To get closer to love. 

— 

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