Illusion of Perfection

I have seen women crushed under the burden of imperfection. They compare themselves to illusions they have imagined for others. Illusions strengthened by perfectly posted pictures, stories and quips of wisdom. Illusions kept because another broken soul doesn't want to burden another. Illusions protected because no one will understand. Illusions dissolve with friendships, real life encounters, vulnerability within safe borders. I have seen ... no one has it all together, no one who isn't messed up in Catching glimpses of people's lives is such a privilege. I have the unique opportunity to see people under pressure. While building relationships, I have dialogued about their fears, hopes, and disappointments. Being the quiet observer in many homes, I have sat in well organized and meticulous spa like settings to disheveled dwellings full of rambunctious kids. I have chatted with moms paralyzed by fears and unknowns and those who ride the ever changing waves of life without a care. I have compared recipes for organic life-changing concoctions and confessed crimes of life-destroying indulgences. I have marveled at those that pull out their calendars, charts, personal history books comparing past pregnancies and related to the moms trying remember where they set the keys down while looking for their glasses. I have admired cute cloth diapers and retrieved dropped pacifiers. I have empathized with moms agonizing from swollen breasts too full for comfort and those supplementing and researching relentlessly to produce enough milk and rejoiced with those that feared breastfeeding would trigger abuse trauma as baby suckled in a compassionate embrace.


I have wept with those wounded by damaged people, rejoiced in overcomed mountains, and encouraged those who feel too weak to continue. I have seen tired, overwhelmed, hope-filled, at wit's end, ingenious, strong and love-my-children-so-much-though-I-might-strangle-them mothers. I have sat on the sideline while attentive partners instinctively comforted laboring lovers and supported mothers while partners were mesmerized by phones. I have seen moms surrender into labor serenely

and those that fight until climatic release. I have seen women crushed under the burden of imperfection. They compare themselves to illusions they have imagined for others. Illusions strengthened by perfectly posted pictures, stories and quips of wisdom. Illusions kept because another broken soul doesn't want to burden another. Illusions protected because no one will understand. Illusions dissolve with friendships, real life encounters, vulnerability within safe borders. I have seen ... no one has it all together, no one who isn't messed up in their own uniqueness, no one who doesn't struggle and also try to cling to hope. Take heart mom! You are not alone! It is time to shatter the illusions.


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