An imperfect life.

I ridiculously love Degas, and have since I was a kid

I've been trying for a long time to have my perfect life, to be the perfect me, to get to the edge of my potential. Is it possible that I've been trying so hard to be awesome that I've neglected how awesome I already am, just as I am?

I've recently learned that I'm a pretty attractive person. Heretofore, I still held the beliefs bestowed upon me as a child: that I was annoying, dressed like a man, had terrible hair, and just generally looked horrible all the time. So naturally I assumed these things meant that I was ugly, and unlovable. Funny thing is, I'm not ugly, and I'm pretty damn lovable. All of that time spent believing the lies made me create a persona to cope with the ugliness. Everything I wear is an attempt to not look decrepit. I avoid certain hairstyles because they accentuate my utter awfulness. I exercise and eat healthy because it keeps me from looking horrifyingly ugly.

But now I know these things are a lie. Every. Single. One. So now what? How do I find out who I really am under all of the things I've put on to keep from showing the world the ugliness underneath? How do I become someone who is completely herself whilst still communicating health and well-being in my professional life? Where is the perfect middle and how do I get there?

And what happens if I stop striving for perfection altogether?

No rest.

It's really important to me to live at peace with other people, and that might make me what some people call a pacifist. Of course, I hate labels. The frugal part of me appreciates substance over all else. Anyhow, living at peace with other people is difficult, because peace isn't about the absence of conflict. Peace is about what's on the other side of that conflict.

When I have a relationship that isn't quite right, I suffer: I lose sleep; I have trouble eating. I just generally feel like ass. And what I wish I could do is just throw the whole thing away. It's not worth all the pain incurred. Being alone is preferable. Except it's not. It's not preferable to be alone. It's not good to be alone. People need to be with other people. We're pack animals.

But people are flawed. I am flawed. So when I get together with another person, we will have a flawed relationship. And that's where I get stuck, romantically speaking. I can have flawed friendships - sure. But flawed romance? That feels wrong and sinful, like God has some perfect person for me, and I'm going to miss out on that person by being in the flawed relationship I'm in.

Meandering thoughts late at night.

Cheers.