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Being Perfect Didn't Make Me Whole

Perfection once had the deceitful task of hiding my most beautiful truths. For much of my life, perfection was the tool used to control others’ perception of me. But I thought a lot about what perfection actually covered up. What would people miss if they only bought into the perfection I sold them?

>That I struggle with the disease to please.

>I doubt my talents and abilities.

>I am outwardly confident but have anxious moments alone.

>I rarely trust my judgment.

>I give some of the best advice and somehow can never take it myself.

>I live behind a wall of “I got this.” And I fear that someone will crack the glass--exposing a Sydney that is unworthy and incapable.

Perfection covered most of these truths until I realized the beauty they held. These truths made me whole and celebrated my complexities in a way that perfection could never. Being whole became my new mission as I searched for meaning in the things I thought made me weak. I discovered that perfection didn’t make me whole.

The Cracks in Perfect

The cracks in perfect ran deep and limited my existence. Denying the beautiful truths inside left me feeling empty and confused about who I was. Perfection hollowed out my spirit--making room for others’ opinions to enter my life and dictate.

Being perfect put the focus on others’ desires instead of my own. Living for someone else made me unfamiliar with my dreams and goals. Soon, I felt like a stranger to myself, and I had no idea how to get back to a place I had never been.

“The riskiness of living in love required a vulnerability that I feared would expose all of my weaknesses.”

Fear ran most of my life instead of love. Fear of getting it wrong. Fear of upsetting someone else. Fear of rejection. These fears consumed my perfect soul. Love, before I truly knew what it meant, was dangerously foreign. The riskiness of living in love required a vulnerability that I feared would expose all of my weaknesses.

Saddened by how my life was passing by, I began to search for those dreams and goals I once had. I read all the self-help books. I watched all the personal growth masterclasses. And read even more self-help books. The only way to break free from perfection was to do the thing that scared me the most.

All of those truths I claimed as weaknesses had to be exposed. And after much resistance, I found that exposing these truths was, and is, the most beautiful work I’ve ever done. Each time I resist perfection, my soul is cracked open--and the light of vulnerability shines through the cracks, revealing a me that is imperfectly whole.

Wholeness filled the cracks of perfection with love, acceptance, and vulnerability.

The Beauty in Being Whole

Wholeness honors every unique part of who I am. It does not keep any piece of me hidden. It exposes and allows mistakes, confusion, discomfort. Achieving wholeness celebrates the ups and downs, twists and turns that my life may take.

Being whole fills me with purpose and the courage to live a life that honors that purpose. When I strived for perfection, I was hesitant to go after certain dreams because there was a constant pressure not to fail. But wholeness makes more room for me to explore what is possible for my life.

“Wholeness allowed me to allow others their beautiful truths.”

So I don’t go after things with the cautiousness of “what if I fail?”--but with the positive curiosity of “what if I succeed?” Wholeness has me operating with the expectancy that anything I experience in life will add more meaning to my existence regardless of the outcome.

Wholeness has me connecting with others in a way I have never done so before. Since perfection was the standard I held myself to, it was, in turn, the standard I held others to around me. This expectation was the vast and unfamiliar gap between me and most of my intimate connections.

Meshing well with others was a battle as they were a lot less uptight, judgmental, and obsessed with perfect than I was. Wholeness allowed me to allow others their beautiful truths. In conversation with others, wholeness made it easier for them to trust me because they knew I operated with the same transparency that accepted their imperfections.

Perfection covered my truths as weaknesses, while wholeness exposed my truths as beautiful. I found that perfection was an illusion that hid my heart from others, which made them hide theirs from me. But wholeness welcomes all of these complexities.

I live a full life that celebrates my self-doubt and lack of confidence as the beautiful pieces that make me, me. Perfection had me hiding behind a wall in fear that someone would expose the real me that stood behind it. Wholeness tore this wall down and invited me to stand tall in all of my uniqueness.

Perfection, as determined as I was to live in it, was something I never felt I could achieve--no matter how many people I impressed. It was merely an idea that changed its conditions frequently. Wholeness, on the other hand, was a life I could live. It honored my reality and deemed my true feelings valid.

With wholeness, I could immediately get my feet wet because all that was required was facing the truth of who I was--a truth that’s been right in front of me forever. A truth so known and so obvious that to deny it took more energy than facing it.

Being perfect didn’t make me whole. The beauty of wholeness has revived lost dreams, healed childhood insecurities, and revalued intimate relationships. It is a beauty that I could never imagine giving up; for, it’s redirected my path in life and freed me from the burdens of perfection.

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