Perfectly imperfect

I grew up with a loving but strict father. My mother passed away when I was 12 so he had a big project raising me. He did have the help of my two wonderful older sisters, but I’m sure it was an overwhelming project for him. He was the kind of dad who set very high standards and expected them to be met. Including a white glove test for cleaning (I am, to this day, very bad at that), as well as all of the household chores that became mine at a young age. Maybe that’s why I dislike doing them even now.

He always aimed for perfect. But that just wasn’t in my personality. Believe me, he tried his best! But my mind floats from one thing to the next within seconds, I’m messy, forgetful, clumsy, and I honestly don’t even notice dirt unless someone points it out to me…my mind just doesn’t work like that. Not at all. I guess I have my rose colored glasses on and my head in the clouds.

And now, after all these years, I’m okay with it. I am perfectly imperfect and I love for my art to be that way, too. It’s honestly what I am striving for…and also striving to embrace…a work-in-progress of perfectly imperfect, with my art, my life and myself. And just maybe, that’s okay…

So I guess what I’m saying is to embrace who you are and be okay with that…embrace your own perfectly imperfect…