The scar forms over the wound and the body is imperfect even though it is healed. The perfectionist/idealist in me doesn’t like the realization that just because I am healed, it doesn’t mean I am perfect.
It’s sad news to grasp: I will still struggle sometimes. I will still fail. I will still feel pain. I will still be frustratingly. Not. Perfect. Not everything I say to the people I love will be brilliant and inspiring. Sometimes my utterances will be stupid or even hurtful. It’s unintentional.
Yet, if I choose to reframe the situation in a positive, optimistic way, I can admit that imperfection is more graceful (full of grace). I’m not expected to do everything just right, therefore life can be more relaxed. I can forgive myself and continue on my journey.
Maybe being healed just means that I love myself and even like myself. High fives!
*less than 25,000 words to go to make my goal of 65,000 words by the end of the year. I think I’m going to blow past that goal and that my memoir is going to be maybe around 80,000 words in its draft state.