Sometimes we are viewed not for anything we are or are not, but for the unhealed version of the viewer. No one will ever be perfect, we are made the most perfect version of ourselves by our flaws, though. What do I mean by this? If we didn’t have our flaws, we would most definitely be perfect in all ways, however that would make life boring. Let’s use me as an example. I am 4’11 ¾”, I have Lupus, I am exceedingly stubborn and I am neurodivergent with OCD and PTSD. That makes a special flavor of wild. But it also makes me uniquely me and a welcome addition to my friends and family, though I’m sure I leave them with questions sometimes.
Now, why do I say these flaws make me perfect? Because, they make me, me. At 4’11 ¾”, I am shorter than my children and need help getting things off higher shelves. When they were young, they and their friends made it a goal to grow taller than me by the end of school years. I’ve dropped so much on my head, but my height has given me a sense of humor as has my anxiety, but they have both given me a perspective on being different.
My Lupus has given me the view that I am the only thing strong enough to kick my butt, which led to me being stubborn. It has also made me compassionate, and I work to lend my strength to those who are struggling with their own health battles. I love supporting those people who are struggling in their battles and let them know they aren’t alone. I love aiding a newly diagnosed person, letting them know their diagnosis didn’t give them the disease, it gave a name to what they are already struggling with and help in their fight against what was once unnamed. Because I view myself the way I do, I will try anything and I don’t believe in failing. If I try something, I will succeed, it may not be on the first try but I won’t give up until I have made my goal a reality.
My neurodivergence and OCD have caused chaos over the years. Because of my neurodivergence, I see people in colors, something I have turned into a painting project. OCD has been a struggle over the years. Knowing since I was a young adult has made me tenacious. When my OCD creates a tic that I refuse to keep, I work at it until it no longer is a problem. I went from 216 books to 0 because of my OCD once, but I have been able to grow my library again healthily because I fought to become normal in how I handle my books. And my intrusive thoughts have created some wild conversations that contained howling laughter.
I am perfectly imperfect. So are you. We can either hide our differences from the world or embrace what make us unique and love ourselves for the differences. Without our flaws and our differences, the world would indeed be a perfect place. A perfectly boring place.
