Today I kind of wanted to touch on something that many people really don’t seem to understand about me. Believe it or not, I’m not perfect.
That should come as no surprise, being that nobody actually is perfect – but I have had women – lots of them – tell me they look up to me, want to be like me, ask me to teach them how to be like me, and honestly praise me. While it’s extremely flattering to a point….I wish they wouldn’t.
I have flaws. Lots of them. I am the furthest thing to perfect that I know of. My definition of perfection, aside from Jesus, of course, or coffee, is Richi. He is perfect. He’s everything I wish I could be. But me? I’m not perfect. I just wish I could understand why I’m held in such high regard and to such a high standard, almost like I’m on a pedestal for some of these women. It’s such a hard title to live up to. I feel like I constantly have to meet that standard, and when I fall short of that, which is always, I feel like a failure or like I’ve let so many people down.
My husband knows better than anyone that I’m not perfect, yet I try to be as perfect as I possibly can for him because I’ve made so many mistakes that I refuse to fail again. Yet, when it comes to him, I feel like I fail all the time. Try as I might, I fail and I fail and I fail again. I feel as though the same goes for my older kids. I try to be this perfect mom and do everything right, but, at the end of the day, all they are really getting is my best. Is my best truly enough? Is it possible to do better than your best?
How can I be as close to perfect as possible?
That’s a question that constantly repeats itself in my head. I hate it, if I’m being honest. I wish I didn’t struggle with the image of perfection. I know in the front of my mind that it’s unattainable. I know that the only perfect thing/being/person in the entire Universe is God. So, why, then, do I feel the need to try to be on his level? I shouldn’t.
While I appreciate everyone constantly saying things like, ‘Sarah, you are such an inspiration; I want to be just like you!” I have to remind these women, no, you don’t. You want to be better than me. You want to be the idea of the me that you see. You don’t know everything about me; you don’t know my past. Believe me, you can be better than I have been. I wasn’t always the person I am now. That’s not to say I was some terrible person, just, I wasn’t always a good wife. I wasn’t always the me that you see. I had to make a lot of changes and weed out a lot of the bad qualities about me. I’m still working on myself. I’m a constant work in progress and I probably will be until the day I die. But, I know one thing’s for sure: perfection is a lie.
I’m flattered that you all give me such incredible compliments all the time. I get e-mails, texts, even phone calls saying how amazing they think I am. It’s a great ego boost, believe me. But it makes me feel worse about myself at the end of the day, if that makes any sense.
Don’t strive to be like me. Strive to be like you. Strive to be the best version of you that you possibly can be. That’s where the true reward will come. Improve on your worst qualities and cherish and tout your best qualities. Be what you want to be in your own form. Cherish you. Love you.
Perfection is a lie.