My life has been filled with an inexplicable passion for perfection. Perhaps it's my competitive nature, the influence of my family, the inexecutable messages of society, or simply my drive to succeed. Hopefully, it's my intrinsic motivation to do my best, learn as much as I can in this life and use my gifts for the good of others.
Writing my previous entry was wearisome for me on many levels, yet therapeutic in ways I hope I continue to realize through the next months. Admitting failure, vulnerability, sin and feelings of worthlessness is difficult because it means I'm imperfect. It's also extraordinarily important. (When I burst embarrassingly into tears describing this difficult year at the surprise birthday party my mom threw for me, one of my mentors exclaimed: "She IS human!" - was there any doubt? I mean, I suppose my dad and brother told me I was from the Muppet planet Koosbane for my entire childhood, but that's another post entirely.)I have found that the more I focus on tasks, others, news (anything BUT me), the less I discover my own depravity and need for grace. The actions are fine; the outcome, not so much. I pray I will continue to learn that less than perfect is okay, and sometimes is even healthy and freeing. Things certainly have not transpired in the last 25 years as I may have envisioned, and though there may be pain, regret or sadness associated with the past, I have to realize that the true "failure" often comes from my pride, denial and lack of love and faith.
Self-reflection is crucial to growth and moving forward, even though it may make me feel awkward and self-absorbed. I smell a cure coming: road trip to Oregon next week.
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