Seeing Myself Through Their Eyes

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I made a little wish today. Just for one day, I want to see myself through the eyes of others.

My partner says I’m an amazing wife and mom, but all I notice is the clutter and chaos in our house. My friends often tell me I’m kind and thoughtful, yet I feel like I’m always falling short, wishing I could do more. My kids think I’m the fun one, but it stings when I see them sprinting to their dad the moment he walks in the door.

I’m far from perfect—like, really far—and it drives me nuts. I can’t stand how I look on a daily basis; my appearance is, let’s be honest, a bit of a hot mess. I rarely put on makeup and wear the same clothes over and over again. My favorite jeans are sagging in all the wrong places, and my purse is stuffed with junk I don’t even need. My calendar is overflowing with things I can’t remember, and I’m juggling a million tasks at once, so nothing gets done. And don’t even get me started on my hair. I dye it fifty shades of purple just to make it seem like this wild look is intentional. With lupus thrown into the mix, it’s a recipe for disaster.

I’ve reached a point where I no longer try to hide my imperfections. I joke about it, saying things like, “Girl, I’m just glad my kids are fed and we’re almost on time!” My life feels like a never-ending loop of tripping over my own feet and trying to make it look like I meant to jog.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we focus solely on our flaws rather than celebrating our strengths? Why can’t we embrace our imperfections as what makes us unique?

I’ve always been the type to strive for excellence. I want to be the best at everything—prettier, smarter, healthier. But instead of feeling accomplished, I’m constantly reminded of every little imperfection. I see every bump and dimple with a heavy heart, and I resent myself for not being able to do it all.

Yet, despite my self-doubt, I hear those affirmations: “You’re great!” “You’re smart!” “You’re beautiful.” But I’ve never really believed them.

So, for just one day, I want to know that what they say is true. I want to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think, “You’re beautiful.” I want to have a conversation and feel genuinely smart. I want to make a difference in someone’s life so they don’t feel alone in their struggles. I want to make it through a tough day with the kids without lying in bed thinking, “Tomorrow will be better.”

I want to hear my partner say, “You’re beautiful,” and actually believe him, instead of thinking he’s just trying to score brownie points. I want to trust my kids when they call me “the best mommy ever” because I made them a grilled cheese, without dwelling on all the times I feel like I’ve failed.

Just for one day, I want to see myself in their eyes—imperfectly perfect, wonderful just as I am. Maybe tomorrow will be that day.


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