I, as you, have trouble admitting the sad fact that I am an imperfect human being. A human being capable of sleeping through the alarm, spilling blue nail polish on the carpet, breaking a heart, letting co-workers down, disappointing parents, and deviating from the monthly budget. A human being who had to google “does human being have to have a hyphen in between the two words” while writing this article.I think it has finally hit me. I feel the effects of being a real, living, mistake-making person. The years of striving for perfection seem tiring and daunting and a more authentic, flaw-embracing path seems to be calling my name. I can feel the cover-up unraveling and reality breaking through. Instinct is telling me to hide it, but I am ready to stop fighting authenticity.
We live in a society that teaches us to cover our flaws. We cannot make mistakes without being looked at through judgmental eyes. We are not taught to wear our imperfections proudly, rather we are taught to cover, tuck, hide, conceal, and distract.
Are you as sick of it as I am?
Are you as tired as I am of pretending to be a better, less human, human being than everyone else?
I am tired of pretending that I know what I am doing.
I am tired of slapping makeup on and pretending I woke up looking that way.
I am ready to live authentic and flawed.
I am ready to live fearlessly.
I am ready to live without regard to judgment.
I am ready to embrace the freedom to be had in being human.
We must see that our flaws subtract nothing from the whole. Our imperfections do not make us less. Imperfections will always make us more: more human, more real, more experienced, more refined, more understanding. Let us see our shortcomings as gifts: we learn through them, we grow through them, we become more humble and compassionate through them. Our flaws are not personality defects- perhaps they are the only reason we have good characteristics. Perhaps the things we hate most about ourselves are the reasons we have the things we love most. Perhaps the scar on our chin makes us appreciate the smooth skin elsewhere. Perhaps the extra ten pounds helps us appreciate the feeling of being fed, taken care of, and comfortable. Perhaps the misspoken words and meaningless fights make the loving embraces more firm. Perhaps the mistakes we can’t seem to stop making make us more forgiving of others mistakes. Perhaps we become more ourselves with every misstep.
Maybe we owe all that we are to all that we wish we could hide.