Yesterday, I had heard a guy share a bit about how he came to be at the church he’s currently attending. He talked about some difficulties in finding a good fit. At one point, he said, “My wife has Tourette’s [Syndrome], and I wrestle with playing well with others.”
That statement spoke volumes to me.
Before I say more about that, I want to point out some things about that couple.
They — whatever struggles, difficulties, or shortcomings — have been an important part of my life.
They stood by my side, as I plunged into despair and grief, after being betrayed beyond what I could have imagined happening to me.
And, these two individuals were still around as I picked up surviving pieces and began rebuilding life, sometimes a day or a moment at a time.
They encouraged and supported me, as I marched forward in a new career direction, the difficult path of writing and hopefully publishing fiction.
I wouldn’t want either of those individuals to be any different than they are. I love them just as they are.
Hearing the guy say what he did motivated and reminded me to just be as I am.
Being perfect doesn’t exist. Besides, it’s nowhere I want to be.
I have physical scars bearing a surgery that delivered my first child into the world. I also bear ones that show growing babies to full term as well as multiples. I’ll keep those battle scars, thank you very much. They are evidence of very significant and meaningful stories in my life.
I also carry emotional and psychological wounds from mixing and mingling with narcissists and addicts. Strange as it may sound, I wouldn’t take those experiences away, because they’ve made other people feel less isolated and alone and better understood.
So, proscribe “perfect.” I’ll just be me with my idiosyncrasies, mistakes, and imperfections.
WAM - Writing and Art in the Making 