This post began as a quaint account of our day, until I realized there was something else nagging at me to be shared….
You see, I’ve been reading a lot about being imperfect, which is fitting, since we are all created this way, so you may be able to relate.
I’ve realized how many things I avoid tackling, for fear of what they may not become, and I can’t help but wonder how many of us stopped creating, around the time we began to grow breasts or speak with a crackle in our voice? If you didn’t stop, perhaps you became increasingly self-critical.
I’ve wondered how many times I’ve confused striving to be better with being perfect enough to avoid pain and hardship, and I’ve wondered how many times I’ve missed out on a truly joyful experience or an opportunity for growth because of it.
I’ve thought about all of the times that I found myself lashing out, or perhaps weeping alone because I simply wasn’t good enough.
Until I began to question what enough might look like.
And so I began the quest of seeking out role models. If I wasn’t good enough, then I must be able to find someone else who was. Only then, I found myself to be incredibly lonely, since it seems that no one met the very specific criteria I had chiselled out for myself.
Could it be that this person does not exist?
This is a question I honestly asked myself, and I have to admit that this step took me about four years of self-discovery to answer.
And then I thought long and hard about all of the people I have put up on pedestals, only to be hurt and disappointed upon realizing that they, too, are not perfect.
Where am I now you ask?
I’ve made the discovery that most of my successes are modelled after traits of people I admire. I’ve realized that mentors have been the most valuable teaching tool for me, a most wonderful treatment. Let’s be clear that no mentor will possess all of the skills or traits I’m looking for, and I’ve reached a point where I am okay with this.
Because there are so many lessons to be learned from so many people, I’ve taken to looking at myself as the end result of a recipe, with each trait I admire as one of the ingredients. Sometimes, I add the baking soda at the wrong time, or I stir too much, and my recipe falls flat, but I’m working on the ingredient of self-love , and that’s the jar that’s always the most difficult to locate.