I used to think that I had to be perfect. Not TRY to be perfect. But actually BE it. Like to the letter, line in the sand, better than everyone, on a pedestal kind of perfect.
Not because I wanted to be a big bad show-off, the almighty of awesome, but because I felt like perfection was my only way in to be liked, loved, respected, and on and on and on. I couldn't wrap my head around why people would want to be around me otherwise.
I used to think I had to be the nicest, smartest, happiest, coolest, hippest, neatest, craziest, sweetest, everything -est person to worm my way into hearts and souls and create a network of people who really loved me.
All things to all people all of the time.
I beat myself up – a lot – with every failure on that impossible course.
It was hard work.
Exhausting really.
And, in hindsight, really stupid thinking.
In fact, it turns out that the people I've been trying to please and wow and amaze and impress all these years are the people that have loved me so deeply from the get-go with all my faults in clear view. With my short attention span. With my low tides. With my weak moments. With my irrational tears. With my self pity and self loathing. With my blubber butt. With my self-doubt. With my carelessness. With my silliness.
All the good and the bad and the ugly and the awesome have been on display for 33 years. It turns out the only person who really didn't love it was me. (Damn you, life lessons!)
It also turns out (rather glaringly obvious) that the whole Kim package is no where near perfect and never will be. That said, this package has earned a school of loyal followers who have reminded me, over time, that believing in perfection is kinda lame and dated. I should really be spending more time just trying to be the best of me.
The great thing about stupid beliefs is that they often come with a really sweet silver lining. Some call it "learning." I call it "smack in the face."
Seeking perfection taught me to strive for personal betterment – push the limits, believe in the impossible, and go at it with gusto. It gave me wings when I was terrified to fly. It also taught me that failure is inevitable sometimes and that's quite alright. Being me is better than being ideal. Who would've thought?
So, thank you, Stupid Belief. You've shown me the light.
See you later incessant need for unachievable perfection. I'm ditching the hamster wheel.
Hello self-confidence. It's nice of you to finally arrive.
