To be imperfect is to be human

(Originally published 1/5/2022)

I excitedly shared something with my partner this morning, feeling like a kid again. It was about high yield savings accounts, and delving into ways to make money with money gets me super revved up.

“That’s wrong,” he said, and proceeded to explain why my math was incorrect.

All I heard was “You are wrong.” It shattered my morning spirit, which is usually high and sassy. “You are wrong” quickly turned into ‘everything about you is wrong,’ ‘you don’t even deserve this person,’ ‘who do you think you are?’ – and spiraled into “I’m sorry for existing.”

He didn’t do anything wrong. He was simply sharing his thoughts and information he knows to be right. And it’s not wrong at all; I calculated my math incorrectly. So what? Oops! Usually, when this happens, I laugh it off and make a self-deprecating joke about being poor at math (another coping mechanism to examine soon). But today, oh today…I feel like a disgusting piece of shit. Mistakes happen, not a big deal. I tried to plead with this voice.

BUT my brain only was willing to hear this deep voice telling me that everything is wrong about me.

This voice reminded me of all the other times I have been wrong – past relationships, failed marriages, missteps around career, parenting. It really let me have it. I am sitting in bed, vulnerable and naked, and just want to feel like a cactus – prickly and impenetrable. I want to cast my ice heart cactus spell onto this scene so that I feel nothing.

The cactus is a saboteur. It’s most certainly ruined relationships in the past. It pushes everything and everyone away. It makes me ‘safe’ within the poisonous daggers that get anyone that even dares to touch me. I have felt laser eye focus land on anyone that attempted to give me a compassionate look. This, my friends, is a coping mechanism that enabled my survival during younger years.

The reality is that I've been working really hard on feeling more like a baby when this happens – easily able to cry and be held, to be taken care of. Hot tears ran down my face. It hurt to let my partner hold me. It went against everything old patterns and coping mechanisms I curated for years.

One of the first times I remember hearing this was around the time I was 9 or 10. I used to spend afternoons after school at my mom’s work. She was a manicurist at a salon. I would hang out in the back where stylists mix up chemicals for hair. I vividly recall one day struggling through a division worksheet. I accidentally left it on the counter, and when I came back, a stylist was looking over it. I saw her face make weird shapes and then say, “Most of this is wrong.” I felt the hot shame radiate over my face and body. I wanted to escape. To be small. I wanted to never do math again, or ever put myself in a situation where I would be put on the spot and be told I’m wrong ever again.

This is a memory that is stored in my nervous system. This is an origin of a story I started telling myself about being stupid, unworthy, and bad at math/numbers.

When I am afraid to make a mistake, this is where my brain goes. It is screaming to not put us back in that situation again. It has combined making a mistake, being imperfect, something being wrong, and intersecting it with I AM WRONG. It has woven a story that being wrong means I AM WRONG, that being imperfect is dangerous. That I am broken.

I want to release this story with love.

Being imperfect is human.

Being wrong is human.

I am worthy because I exist.

And I am whole.

This is why thought work and coaching saved my life. I used to walk around with this self-abuse playing on repeat all day long. I used to believe it.

Now when my brain tells me this I cry, and wonder why it’s being so mean. And then I quickly remember that I used to live every day like this. It’s not true, at all. It’s simply a thought, and thoughts are NOT FACTS. I feel sad and have so much self-compassion for a past version of myself that indulged in abusing myself.

Being imperfect is to be human. Being sensitive is to be human. Being willing to make a mistake is a strength.