Coming unstitched

From a young age two things were clear...I knew what I wanted, and I knew what I didn't want in respect to the type of adult life I ultimately wanted to live. 

The short version of my plan or really lack there of to "arrive" at that life was to make the least amount of mistakes as possible, to avoid major life meltdowns, to be strong, to make good choices. To live a "nice" and "tidy" life. To keep myself nice and stitched up, and never let anything get close to busting out the side of my stitching. To live a life that didn't need the cleanup crew to come in and wipe up on regular occasions. I felt the need to be strong. To me strong and perfect were synonymous. I wanted needed to have it all together, not some of the time, but all of the time.

Well, if you're a normal breathing human then you know that what you just read above is humanly impossible, but that truth was never something that I was willing to let penetrate me, The combination of believing I needed to live a stitched up life of continual strength and believing this lie stole my joy for far too long. 

{2007}

For a very long time this strength robotic, unemotional persona I outwardly exuded made me proud...I was succeeding...I was composed {on the outside} I was strong {on the outside} On the inside, yeah it was a splattered, disastrous and messy dead zone. Yes, I did have to continuously retreat to private to tend to stitches that threatened to pop out....yes I did need to begin using stronger thread to cover areas that wanted to open. But hey on the outside, I was living that neat and tidy thing. Living in a way that felt necessary if I was to avoid rocking the boat. There were no obvious messes in my life. I had successfully managed to sedate myself to a very mild and uneventful non squeaky wheel. Everything was quiet and controlled....but so dimmed and so dead. 

{the day it all started to shift}

....but then, I saw something that was such the opposite of the life I had been living. One day while on a Southern California beach I saw life being lived in such a way that to me it looked like art. It was the most authentic and beautiful thing I had ever seen. A life lived free. I was captivated. Immediately my heart completely connected with the artful scene and life that I saw on the beach such a long time ago now. In that moment it was clear that the in the box tidy and clean life I had been living was one of such dryness and rigidness. I could see and feel that a large part of me was dead...missing.

Can I just say that for me, the fight of freeing myself from perfectionism has and very well may be my greatest battle. It was and is deeply, deeply ingrained into me. When I was opened up to authentic living and being a real life freaking person {you know the ones with bad days, problems and the occasional melt down, and also the ones who have smiles of genuine joy and laughter in their heart} of course I wanted that, but perfectionism doesn't mesh well with "off days" problems or melt downs. Those things are very imperfect and of course we cant have that. One might think that perfectionism would allow you to still experience genuine joy, but it doesn't, it robs you of that as well. Perfectionism is obviously something that is unattainable, I was never ever going to "get there"...noteveninoneareaofmylife. So if that's the case how could I know joy when I never "arrived" or "made it" or experienced {gasp} a negative emotion now and again!

Most of you who read here have been with me for the long haul. You know what last year looked like. It was the beginning of coming unstitched. I'm still coming unstitched, but the cool thing for me now is instead of retreating to a place where I can quickly stitch myself up {hide} in order to show people "the best of me" I've instead pulled out the tweezers and I'm now intentionally plucking those nasty pieces of thread that have held in the true person, spirit, emotion and hot mess that I am supposed to be giving to this world! {cuz you know a little bit of hot mess never hurt nobody!} I am now compelled to be real, not some of the time..but all of the time....this includes the good, the bad and yes, the ugly.

Point is, I'm a chick..I'm a woman. I was given this xylophone of emotions for a reason, as were you. Each emotion is meant to serve some sort of purpose...did you hear that, everysingleone...even the ones that can at moments seem negative or bad. Even those ones serve a targeted and extremely valuable purpose in our lives if used correctly. So no, I don't get a hall pass to be a forever crazy chick in the name of emotion, and I do have the responsibility to be the best manager of these wonderful things God placed inside me. Will I act out of turn from time to time, will I screw up, will I seem "crazy", will I rage? It's a definite, but I'm becoming truly ok with that because perfection is no longer my goal, and living an authentic and uninhibited emotional life is. Do I want to be the best human I can be, of course...and I am by no means letting myself off any "hook" But at the end of the day I am meant to express the range of these things at various times, as are you.

{via}

Let's do it!