Imperfection is unmistakably human.

I heard the phrase "imperfection is unmistakably human" recently, or maybe I read it somewhere, and it stayed with me. It has been branded into my brain.

Perfectionism is something I've struggled with for most of my life, and because of this, I have experienced both sides of it. Perfectionism can be a wonderful driving force.

In a job, a hobby, or something you're passionate about, wanting to do something well can push you. It can make you pay attention to the details, keep learning, and see what you're actually capable of.

But there's a point where it stops being a driving force and starts becoming a limitation. For me, that has looked like overthinking things that really didn't need to be overthought. Worrying about getting things wrong or saying the wrong thing. Replaying conversations. Putting things off because I can't achieve the standard that I want to achieve. Feeling like I need to know more, do more, or be better before I can really allow myself to move forward. How does perfectionism show up for you?

Frankly, it can be exhausting.

When you're constantly trying to get things right, look perfect, act perfect, according to your own or a perceived standard, you end up so caught up in your head thinking about living that you forget to actually live. You forget to be present and enjoy the moment to its fullest.

And I think the best example of this is architecture. Now, I'm no expert. I just really enjoy looking at houses. And if you know me, you know I walk through this town almost every single day. I always find myself drawn to the older houses, the old crumbly brickwork, the chipping paint, the quirky accents, old wooden doors, and, of course, the overgrown gardens.

The newer houses are beautiful in their own right; they are cleaner, polished, and modern, but to me they all look the same, and that is because they are missing one thing.

Character.

Oh yes, you can clearly tell when an older house has been lived in and cared for over many years. From family to family, the little repair work, the slight unevenness, and the weathering. Hmm, it is a sight to behold when something or someone is appreciated, cared for, and loved, year after year.

This is what made me start thinking about how we look at ourselves. We seem to have no problem appreciating these things in the world around us. We can look at an old building and see character in its imperfections. But when it comes to ourselves, we often see those same signs of time and experience as things that need to be fixed, hidden, improved, or optimized. I seriously am so tired of hearing the word "optimize"

For example:

• Stretch marks, wrinkles, grey hair

• Things we got wrong, regrets, mistakes

• Heartbreak, loss

You name it. We are all marked, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually. This is the natural byproduct of life. We all have stretch marks on our bodies; we all have made mistakes, and we all have experienced heartbreak. You are not alone. Some of those marks we may want to heal. Some we may want to understand. But perhaps we don't have to be ashamed that they're there because they're evidence that something happened. That we felt. That we learned. That we lived.

These marks or "imperfections" have helped shape our characters. Maybe perfectionism is partly an attempt to prevent ourselves from collecting any more marks. If I can get everything right, maybe I won't have to feel embarrassment. Maybe I won't make the wrong choice. Maybe I won't disappoint anyone. Maybe I won't have another reason to criticise myself. But maybe that's the problem.

You can't live a full life without collecting a few marks along the way.

So my question for you is, "Why does imperfection become more beautiful when it belongs to something other than us?"

That feels like an interesting contradiction.

Xx Pascale