I made a little wish today. Just for one day, I long to see myself as others do. My partner, Alex, insists I’m a fabulous spouse and mother, yet all I can see is the chaos that permeates our home. Friends tell me I’m nurturing and kind-hearted, but I constantly feel the urge to do more and be better. My kids claim I’m fun, yet they always dash to Alex the moment he walks through the door.
Perfection? I’m not even close, and that realization is almost unbearable. The truth is, I can’t stand how disheveled I look on any given day. My appearance is a chaotic mix of bedhead and the same old jeans that sag in all the wrong places. My bag is overflowing with junk I don’t need, and my calendar is a jumbled mess of activities I can hardly remember. I’m trying to juggle a million tasks at once, which only leads to complete overwhelm and nothing getting done. And let’s not even get started on my hair—dyed fifty shades of wild just to pretend it’s a style choice! Add lupus into the mix, and it feels like a recipe for disaster.
I’m a walking disaster, and it weighs heavily on me. I’ve reached the point where I no longer try to hide my imperfections. I don’t bother with fancy clothes anymore or even makeup. I’ll jokingly tell friends, “Of course I don’t have it together!” or “Hey, I’m just glad the kids are fed and we’re almost on time!” My life often feels like that moment when you trip over a crack in the sidewalk—rather than gracefully recovering, I exaggerate the stumble as if I was simply jogging.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we focus solely on our flaws instead of celebrating our strengths? Why are we so hell-bent on constant improvement? It’s like we can’t accept our quirks as the beautiful parts of who we are.
As someone who’s always strived for excellence—be it in academics, appearance, or health—I find myself feeling defeated by anything less than first place. I notice every flaw, every imperfection, and I’m reminded of the things I can’t control. And yet, amid my self-doubt, I hear others say, “You’re incredible!” “You’re smart!” “You’re beautiful!” But deep down, I struggle to believe them.
For just one day, I wish to experience what they see. I want to glimpse in the mirror and think, “You’re stunning.” I want to engage in conversations and feel genuinely intelligent. I want to do something remarkable for others so they don’t feel alone in their struggles. After a tough day with the kids, I hope to fall asleep without the nagging thought of “I’ll do better tomorrow.”
When Alex tells me, “You’re beautiful,” I yearn to accept it without skepticism. When my kids declare, “You’re the best mom ever!” for simply making a grilled cheese sandwich, I wish I could relish that moment without dwelling on my perceived failures.
So, for just one day, I want to see myself through their eyes—imperfectly perfect and wonderful as I am. Maybe tomorrow will be that day.
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Summary
This piece dives into the struggle of self-acceptance, showcasing the internal battles many face regarding their imperfections. The author wishes to see herself through the eyes of loved ones, embracing the idea of being “imperfectly perfect.” It highlights the constant desire for improvement while celebrating the beauty in one’s flaws.