Sweet Imperfections

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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.

I’m sorry.

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 and my heart is literally thumping as I type this.

In my defence 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’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.

Dear Daughter,

Dear daughter

 

I bought my first compact brown powder over the weekend, along with a good shade of foundation and a powder brush. As I worked my way through putting my face together on Sunday morning, I laughed at myself for a bit. See, I remember the years of agony my mother faced with having two kids who are nothing like her where making up is concerned. I thought about how she tried everything to get us to be “make-up wearers” early enough and how she constantly rolled her eyes when she saw us ready to go out with bushy eyebrows, roughly put talcum powder and lip balm. I remembered her say at some point that we’d grow up suddenly and realize making up wasn’t such a bad thing, and I smiled at how right she was.

There’s something so decidedly feminine and adult about the whole process of getting ready and it made me think of you – even though you aren’t here yet – and my mom. I hope you meet her, and I hope she teaches you all the tricks with making up with her huge make up box that I hope you inherit. And then, I hoped that you too would one day celebrate how I was right about something you were stubborn about :)

I settled into wondering what you would be like, and I hoped against hope that you wouldn’t inherit some of my characteristics. I hope you aren’t stubborn about your ideals and you are flexible enough to embrace change, unlike me and that you do not want to live a fantasy or build sand castles in the sky and hold on to its possibility with dogmatism. I hope you do not have my almost horrible ability to over-analyze and dissect any situation even when I know it’s only gonna cause me grief. I hope you do not dance around pessimism and negative what ifs like I tend to but hold on to optimism like your life depends on it, ’cause it does. I hope your nails are not short and stubby like mine, and they are as far away from your mouth, as the east is from the west. I hope you do not become overly independent or dependent. I hope you are never timid, and you can stand in front of every crowd to say everything that pops in your mind, intelligently. I hope you don’t shut yourself from the world when you feel bad, because people were made to both lift you up and bring you down; you need them, no matter the state of your mind. And I hope you don’t cry so easily or so often.

I hope you love food – the cooking as well as the eating -and you have a good eating habit.  I hope you make good friends that would stand the test of time and are of good character, and I hope you keep them. I hope you know and love your body, never to lazy to keep it in shape and never shy of its weird complexities. I hope you are creatively inclined and that country music gives you peace and rock songs make you happy :) . I hope it brings you joy to do crazy uncoordinated dances, like me. I hope you find your purpose early and work you way towards it with fierce determination. And I hope you’re a happy child, giving the joy to the world, one smile at a time.

I hope you have a good sense of self and hold on to becoming you. I hope you’re opinionated, actually, you have to be, it’s too strong in my family. But I mostly hope you know how to put a good balance, knowing where your opinions should rather be held on to, than said out loud. I hope your days are filled with confidence, knowing you can do anything with God and determination. I hope you’re more selfless than I try to be, knowing that people always come before things. And you’re smart and thoughtful and generous, not only because it’s sexy, but because it’s everything.

I hope you’re friends with my father, and that you spend your early years sitting at his feet, listening to words of wisdom and I hope his arms are still strong enough to lift you up like he lifted me up when I little. I hope every scar you get from the world moulds you into a woman of wisdom and character who understands better because she has learnt. And I hope it never ever gets you down. I hope you learn to love early and then find love. And I hope when you find “the one”, you treat him like he is the one.

I hope you’re more of a lady than I am, wearing skirts, heeled shoes and red lipstick. I hope your hair is always in place, ’cause I’m not sure I’d be able to help with that pretty well – my natural hair always needs to be set free in loose tangles on sunny afternoons :) . I hope you’re strong and zealous and enthusiastic about life. I really hope you decide early on to live a life geared towards inspiring and helping others, living a story worth telling. I hope you work out your own salvation, love Jesus a heck ova lot and have a steady relationship, it’ll make all the difference in your life. I hope you set your path straight before you and walk in that direction daily, never losing sight of the big picture whilst still giving time to appreciate the beauties of life all around you.

Dear Daughter, above all, I hope I can be all things and more for and to you. A good example, a role model, a friend, a sister, a goofy partner, an available ear to your rants and a prayer partner. I’d love to share my shoes with you – hurry, have big feet!, and have you steal my clothes. I’d be excited to be chauffeur more often than not and your teacher every single day! I want to be the pillow you cry on when you get your heart broken – you most likely will – and I’d be glad to eat all the comfort food and get fat with you on the road to healing.  And while I’m waiting to start this relationship with you, I’d spend these days of my youth becoming someone worthy to be looked up to as a mother.

Lots of love,

In Silence

I like it when we’re together.

Did I say like up there?

I love it when we’re together,

In Silence.

 

We’d sit side by side,

Arms grazing each other with the littlest movement.

We’d look everywhere but beside,

Creating pictures only our minds can see.

 

In silence,

Our breathing collides and creates it rhythm,

In silence,

We say many words, our mouths won’t speak.

 

After time has gone,

You finally look my way,

You say “Where has your mind gone?”

I shake my head, maintaining the silence.

 

Saying nothing, sometimes says the most – Emily Dickenson