Perfectly Imperfect or Imperfectly perfect

Learning that nothing will ever make me completely happy, and that is completely OK.

Who’s idea was it to make us believe in complete happiness? Who’s evil plan was it to make people endlessly chase an unattainable ideal? Who gains by creating the misery that the persist of complete happiness produces?

Ironic how they’ve convinced us of some idea state of joy and we keep wanting more and doing more and demanding more (of ourselves and others) as if that were going to get us closer.... yet all it does it get us further.

It is in the pursuit that we become miserable, frustrated, annoyed, angry, and self-destructive.

I’ve been in the process of acceptance. For example:

I do not know where I am from; this is absolutely less than ideal in a world full of categories one much fits into, but such is life. I DON’T know... and now I’m no longer interested in trying to find out. Result: peace and emotional silence. But most interestingly also action has resulted. Action that before was paralyzed by the not knowing. Now I’ve decided to set up roots in any place that will accept me as “possibly from here”. So I am buying land in Uruguay, embracing my farm in Costa Rica, looking for something in Ecuador, and participating in my best friend's co-op in Virginia. I figure that this will cover my bases no matter where the pieces fall. That is peace!

Another big one is my self-image. This one causes me a lot of pain (so much that it’s hard for me to put down the words).

I am almost 42, I gave birth to two beautiful kids, I have been happily married for 11 years, I am healthy and all is all I’m pretty fucking proud of myself and the life I live. YET, I get mad at myself for having cellulite on my legs because that is unacceptable, at my arms for being flabby, at my changing skin texture, at the extra wrinkles I see in pictures I don’t post because people would realize I’m old! Someone needs to give me a big shack. I need to shack off society's imposed views on female perfection. Who did that??? Why torture us that way?

So, I fight every day with myself, and every time I think these thoughts (a million F* times a day) I conjure Glennon Doyle and I ask myself “who are you disappointing?”

Do you know what I answer myself every time? ME!!!! I disappoint myself, only myself, no one else other than myself.

Do think the people that walk by me on the street are disappointed because they see some cellulite peeking through under my shorts?? NOOOO they don’t give a dam! So, if no one else cares? Why do I? Why do I make myself suffer for no other reason than making myself suffer? It’s the most toxic feedback loop of all time.

So, I embrace me (that’s a lie- I have gotten as far as "striving to embrace"), and I’m working really hard to not disappoint myself. That I feel very strongly about. Life is too painful to self-inflict more pain for no reason.

I am sure there are many many other examples of my endless pursuit of useless ideal's, but if I can get these down.... that’s enough for me.

Baby steps!!!