6/6/21
A few weeks ago, I wrote a line that I can’t get out of my head.
That happens sometimes – words spring up from somewhere inside my secret self and show themselves to be the salve for my not-so-secret self’s aching.
The line goes, “Every step towards perfection leads me closer to nothing and no one.”
And I’ve been tossing and turning. Before you walk too far in the direction of irony, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that my struggle with perfection is not news – not to me and maybe not to you either. But something feels different here. It’s less day-to-day and more heart. Less “two truths and a lie” and more tenderly held flaw. You know?
The inevitable lightbulb – as soon as life began supplying me with rest in more ample measures, I started striving. Struggling. Scrambling.
In my life, business became my allowance for imperfection. An impatient comment to a friend, a messy kitchen sink, a few weeks with no phone call home, any and every moment when I was operating with a lessened capacity for empathy, for support, for decision-making – all backed up and deemed acceptable because of due dates, reading assignments, client load, and supervision meetings. Seven years. For seven years, this has been my normal. My illusory allocation of self-compassion.
And now? Oh, it’s all here, and I’m beginning to see that maybe I’m not sure how to be self-compassionate and maybe imperfection still feels like failure and maybe I’m striving, struggling, scrambling because it has kept me safe all this time.
Every step towards perfection leads me closer to nothing and no one.
Imperfection is vulnerability – a posture that forces you to reach out for help, to try again, to seek reassurance, to share your story. Vulnerability begets connection. Imperfection begets connection.
Every step towards perfection leads me closer to nothing and no one. My heart’s salve. A tender lullaby, a rhythmic song of self-compassion.
Here’s to the daily pursuit of imperfection.
Lightly,
Leah
Leah Kepley, M.Ed. 