Your job is not to be perfect. Nobody ever told you that. At least not explicitly. Being a human is a funny thing. We are all are human. We all have limits. And misgivings. And bodily functions. Yet when we show others our limits, our misgivings, our bodily functions, we are embarrassed. We feel ashamed. We feel less than. We feel imperfect.
So you make a pact with yourself that you will try harder next time. Next time, you will be perfect. You will say the perfect thing, play the perfect part. You will be perfect. Whatever that means. Sometimes you spend hours trying on different clothes and applying makeup. Or you rehearse your lines the entire day so you know exactly what to say to sound intelligent. Or perhaps you spend hours exercising or starving yourself to attain the perfect body.
Then you go to a party. After you’ve spent hours exercising, trying on clothes, and rehearsing lines. You will think that if you look perfect and act perfect, you will be perfect. And then, then people will like you. They will accept you. You will be funny, and intelligent, and pretty, and perfect. And you will do it effortlessly. You will make it look like it’s so easy.
You will leave the party and feel accomplished, yet empty. You will wonder why you feel such a void in your chest. You will try to brush it off and think to yourself that for sure you showed everyone that you were perfect, and they must love you even more now. But this gnawing feeling will not leave you. You will go home and throw off your perfect clothes and wash your perfectly applied makeup off. You will look at yourself in the mirror. You will see yourself in your sweats with no makeup. You will realize that this moment is the first moment you actually feel comfortable. You will wonder why you can not show this person, this imperfect person to other people.
As you stand there you realize that you are far from perfect. You see your wrinkles, your flabby arms, and your stringy hair. You realize in this moment why you feel such a void in your chest. You understand that the person you were earlier, that perfect person, is not you.
You realize that these people you feel like you have to be perfect for probably feel the same way too. That perhaps they are staring at their imperfect bodies at this moment too. You realize the pain we all go through, separately, yet together, to feel acceptance. You know that you will only ever accept yourself, if you show yourself. Your true self. The imperfect one that is staring back at you. The human one.
You will go on a journey. One that involves not ever wearing makeup. Not caring about what clothes you wear. Or how your body looks. You encounter people that give you dirty looks when you go to the mall without makeup on. But you also meet people who don’t notice these things; they don’t treat you any different. These people, they still notice you. They notice your smile, your eyes, and your heart. They see you. The real you. The imperfect you. And you realize that for the first time you see yourself. And you accept it, all of it. Even the human parts. And all of a sudden you clearly understand that when you fully accept the humanness of yourself, the void in your chest is gone. That you are perfectly imperfect just as you are. And that was your job all along.