My Perfectionism Almost Killed Me

"Life is made to be lived like antique furniture: well cared for and loved by the creator and all of it's imperfections adding up to the sum of it's beauty."

Embracing our imperfections might be one of the hardest parts of life. Trying to hide them is like being in a sinking ship where all you have to plug the holes is your own body. Every time you feel like all of the gaps are filled, another pops open. You are stretched wide and thin,  eventually unable to plug the quickly multiplying number of holes. You always feel the panic of being 30 seconds from drowning. I know this panic all too intimately. I have spent many hours quickly shining the visible sections of our house and myself clean while the unseen, ultimately more important parts are a mess. For many years, even my mom couldn't come to visit without a massive deep cleaning to make things look shiny. It has been one of the biggest tensions in our marriage. Everything looked great on the outside, but on the inside our family looked and felt like it was drowning.

Finding the strength to be humble and acknowledge where I need improvement is even harder. It can try the character of even the strongest. Perhaps that is why we spend so much time masking our imperfections. Social Media has allowed us to give the world a beautiful picture of what we want people to think our lives look like. That is then used to compare our lives to the false picture that others are putting forward. It's an impossible standard. No one can realistically keep up but everyone wants to appear to.

Why can't there be a better way? What happened to authenticity as a characteristic of value? Perhaps the reason that we are so stressed is that we can't be real with anyone. We are exhausted from trying to juggle all of the balls we have in the air and look great doing it. Not being able to be authentic causes stress that can feel like it is killing you. I was constantly changing my mask, going from one activity or responsibility to another.  To please person after person and be who they expected me to be. No one really knew me and I felt alone.

Maybe it is time to consider a different frame of mind, a different reality... an accurate reality. A lens where age, imperfections and shortfalls bring beauty and character, not brokenness. A reality where we surround ourselves with people who allow us to ask for help and not be shamed. It's a completely counter culture idea.

So, I will go first. I'm tired of wearing the mask. I yell at my kids sometimes, it happens more than I would like to admit. I cuss a little. I sometimes struggle with fear over my husband's job... this one has been tough lately. I can be negative and get stuck there. My son is still struggling to read, he's 11 and I blame myself for it. But you know what, God is using these imperfections to grow me and mold me. To teach me lessons about myself and others. They are part of what make me who I am. Like the stretch marks from my babies, they are evidence of growth and new life in Jesus.

I am slowly realizing that our lives are meant to be like beautiful antique furniture, you know the kind people pay big bucks for in fancy stores. It is well cared for and loved by the creator and all of it's imperfections add up to the sum of it's beauty. We are fully loved by our creator just the way we are. No need to fix the broken or unlovely parts, in fact the existence of those parts and the admission that they are a part of us is what makes us beautiful. Authenticity is what makes us beautiful.