Admitting To My Imperfections  

When I was in college, one of my classmates wrote an editorial for the school newspaper titled, "The Quest For Effortless Perfection." It was an accusation, vehemently made towards the Greek (as in sorority, not the nation) community, basically calling us self-centered *itches who cared more about our outward appearance-- and what everyone else thought of us-- than what we thought about ourselves.

I would have denied it at the time, but 10 years later, I know the writer was right.

I was confronted by the same type of bold charges last week, when I read a post called "The Disease Called Perfection", written by a blogger dubbed Single Dad Laughing. If you haven't heard of him, I highly encourage you visit his site. He wrote a post that has so opened my eyes, I've jumped on the bandwagon-- literally a quarter-million strong-- to share my own imperfections.

You see, for years, I have been crippled by what other people think of me. Notice I used the word think in that last sentence, not the past tense, thought. I wish I could claim otherwise, but this is a problem I still struggle with today. And I know I'm not the only one.

The author of that magnanimous post called out all of us who have been living a false life. The women who think their husbands are God's gift, but don't know he's sleeping with half a dozen women behind her back. The men who beat their wives, then stand up as a pillar of their community. The children who steal from their parents, then deflect the blame to another sibling.

So what is my crime?

It's my ability to make people think that I make a decision, act on it, and move on without looking back.

What do I mean? Well, to avoid any confusion, I'm talking expressly about my decision to leave my job at the TV station. I am now 9 days away from jumping off the proverbial "career cliff". October 14th is my last day in the news industry, and for a while, I pretended like I couldn't wait to leave. Like I was making the perfect decision for myself and my family, and that I had no qualms or doubts about it. But that is far from the truth.

At first, I thought it was the truth. At first, I thought I was completely confident in my choice. I thought I could walk out of that building--out of that professional life--without a second thought. What was I leaving behind? I thought I was leaving behind a demanding boss, an embarrassingly low salary for someone with a Masters degree, working nights, holidays, and weekends, and, most of all, the ridiculous politics that I know are pervasive at just about every office in the world. I thought I was moving towards a life of zoo trips with G, keeping the perfect home, finally learning how to cook, and operating my own little den of domesticity with the same precision that I've operated a newsroom for the past five years.

But when I was on vacation (yeah, remember those two weeks in September when I didn't post anything? I was at the beach with my family; we've had MAJOR computer issues and I can't seem to upload anything, which is why you haven't seen pictures), I started to see things a little differently...

I realized I would be leaving behind a group of people who have made me smile every day, even at times when I all I wanted to do was complain...

I realized I would be leaving behind my sense of financial security; apart from what DH makes, it's always been empowering to bring in my own money, and feel free to spend it as I saw fit...

I realized I would be leaving behind my chief way of expressing myself through words, something I hadn't thought was that vital to my sense of self...

I realized I was scared of a life with no set parameters, of a life where no one would be there to monitor my successes and failures, of a life that wasn't controlled by the second hand of the clock.

Yet, I kept up this hard shell. I kept letting the people I was leaving behind think I was happy to be doing so. (And it's not that I'm unhappy; I realize that I am blessed to have a husband who is willing to make sacrifices for the greater good of our family. Heck, I'm blessed to have a husband who thinks what constitutes "the greater good" is the same thing I do!) And in keeping up that guise of leading a perfect little life, I was alienating some of the people I cared for the most. It wasn't my intention, but it was the result of my vanity, my ego, my pride, and my desire to keep up a perfect image of a woman who was completely fine with NOT having it all.

Yesterday--in preparation for today's post--I finally told some of my coworkers how bittersweet these last weeks on the job were to me. That as much as I looked forward to more time with my family, I wasn't looking forward to less time with my friends at work. That they had been such an important part of my life. That the work we do every day is crucial to our community, whether we always realize it or not. They no longer think I'm perfect, a hardened shell of a person, devoid of real emotion. No, instead, now they simply think I'm human.

What I know now is, allowing people to think you live a charmed, perfect life when the reality is far more, well, realistic not only hurts us-- it can hurt those around us too. It can damage relationships. And it's not worth it. I'm not saying you should air your dirty laundry to anyone who will listen (even though that's what I'm doing now; it is, I will admit, highly cathartic). I'm just saying that to really live a perfect life, you have to live a really honest life.

I hope you'll visit Single Laughing Dad's blog and read his amazing post on the damages of perfection. I hope his words will inspire you to come clean about something that's been troubling you, as they've inspired me. And I hope they'll stay with you far beyond today, to make you a better person.