It was on a day like this one I found my biggest flaw and even finding it was a flaw in itself.
How can a flaw be so hard to find? It’s a flaw, it should be glaring! But it wasn’t. We’d combed through all the little imperfections and considered them not big enough till we’d found this.
In truth, “we” didn’t find this, you did, and it took at least thirty minutes of talking and arguing and practically negotiating before I came down to it.
See what I just realized? For every time I said my biggest fear was failure or oblivion, I lied.
I cannot fail; that’s as much a positive declaration as it is an assurance, plus, what’s oblivion anyway? If I do not fail (and I cannot), I’d have enough scribbles flying around for centuries – soon enough.
My biggest fear is being vulnerable. To let you see me for me, no defences, no shields, bare and uncovered. That you can see how I really feel without me having the first hand privilege of rewriting the way you see it, so I have the upper hand.
I don’t know what is scarier than that.
In my defense, to shield me from this great fear of mine, I’ve carved and painted this picture of me, that is so pretty, so perfect. And it’s all you see. It’s fed to you over and again, till it reached the greatest heights and now it’s a yoke on our necks.
I’m sorry I only show you my strengths and not my weaknesses and now what you see is this tower of strength who has it figured out, not the confused 20 something year old I really am.
And how I’m so body conscious, it’s all we live and breathe! I never tell you about how long it took for me to actually be comfortable in my own skin, or how I ensure everything fits snug around the waist because it is my confidence booster, or how I’m actually lying when I say I’m “lowkey” insecure about the shape of my head and my bom. It’s not lowkey.
Most of all, I’m sorry I always come out as Miss Goody-two-shoes, who’s always happy and has a planned out existence.
I would always talk about how Jesus is the best way to solve every issue, and how if you talked to Him, you’d feel all the difference but I’d never tell you about the days I feel so gone, I can’t mutter a line to Him or make it to church for weeks, even when I know it’s all I need.
I’d gracefully let you see my plans book and the lists outlined with timelines but hide when I have to tear the page out and rewrite it because I NEVER meet any timelines I set for myself.
I’m the perfect goof with the wise chatter, the endless chuckles and chuckle-worthy retorts; just so you never see my woes or the pain around the edges of these eyes that know tears oh-so-often.
Every time I tell you we are on the same ship and you grunt in disbelief, I’ll tear off another guarded layer in hope that one day, some day, I’d be one with my fear – vulnerable, open – and you’d see through all of this, see me as I really am, with all my imperfections bubbling up, and then we’d sit in the warmth that only a fusion of our sweet imperfections can bring.
I hope you see it.