Perfection. It’s odd I’ve always been entirely sure that I was very far away from being perfect. Fundamentally flawed is my usual feeling. Despite feeling that this perfection was something to aspire to I’ve never really analysed who this person is and what qualities they possess. So perhaps it’s time to wander.
She would be patient and unflappable. Calm and collected, organised and on top of all of her commitments. Upbeat, usually happy and brings an air of positivity wherever she goes. She is caring and always has time to help when people need her. She bakes, is practical, finds fulfilment from the little things. She looks neat, I’m not sure why I aspire to this quality but I see women around me who just seem to look neat all day, it seems like a good thing. She doesn’t over share, or make people feel uncomfortable. When she does have problems she handles them sensibly, with logic and doesn’t become overcome with her emotions.
Basically, my perfect woman is probably inspired by the qualities and skills that I consider myself lacking. The grass certainly looks greener in her garden.
I think my pursuit of happiness by metamorphosising into this fictional person has been an obsession. Once I shed the cocoon of my flaws (an openness that can be unnerving, lack of practicality gene, too much passion) I will be happy. Holding this contrived notion together takes so much energy, feels so wrong. But just being who I am is terrifying, will I be likeable?
I realised recently that it’s time to be happy. Not that I haven’t had lots of happiness thus far, but I mean time to really embrace who I actually am. Be ok with the things I enjoy, what turns me on about life, and in doing this live an honest life full of integrity to myself. It’s time to like myself, I am in charge of my own self esteem.