Perfection doesn’t interest me because the human experience is messy, and I love being human.
I was running a business based on helping others heal when I fell into the worst depression of my life. I couldn’t eat food and wished I would whither away in bed. I canceled clients because I had no other choice. I walked around life with tears dripping from my eyes, a heavy weight wrapped around my shoulders, and an empty heart for far longer than my mind believed I should have.
Many people don’t share about their pain while they are feeling it, but I did. I wrote blog posts about my broken spirit and eventually wrote a book that is charged with the grief and triumph of heartbreak and soul redemption. I didn’t wait for a “perfect” time to share it. When it was done, it was time.
I spent too many years trying to hide from my pain, from the parts of myself that I believed were unlovable, and wasted so much energy trying to be a hollow version of who I thought I wanted to be.
Over five years into my healing journey, attempts at perfection feel only like a heartbreaking waste of energy. It’s just another way we perpetuate the belief that we aren’t enough.
You could say I am in the business of imperfection. I have come to love the messiness of being human. If you do a healing session with me, you might hear the smile in my voice when I talk you through your pain. It’s because I have been there too, and I am not immune to it even through my journeys.
I have come to love the messiness of being human and love holding others as they meet the imperfect parts of themselves that are, in fact, absolutely perfect.
I shared this post and these words a few months ago and felt called to post it again. ❤️