Perfectly Imperfect Family Quotes

Somehow, four strangers who had been randomly assigned to the same dorm room their freshman year of college had evolved into what we were now—a beautifully messy, perfectly imperfect family that’d gone through our share of ups and downs but made it through to the other side.

The good heart that prays for the end of others suffering ends its own suffering with such prayers. Send out your blessings to family, friends, colleagues, strangers on the street. A saint acts compassionately not because she is a saint. Rather, her compassionate acts make her a saint.

Well, my dear sisters, the gospel is the good news that can free us from guilt. We know that Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It's our faith that he experienced everything- absolutely everything. Sometimes we don't think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we don't experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That means he knows what it felt like when your mother died of cancer- how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virginia. He experienced the gas chambers at Dachau. He experienced Napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism. Let me go further. There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he does not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands the hunger to hold your baby that sustains you through pregnancy. He understands both the physical pain of giving birth and the immense joy. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion. His last recorded words to his disciples were, "And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew 28:20) He understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Down syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children are visitors, when you hear that your former husband and his new wife were sealed in the temple last week, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all that. He's been there. He's been lower than all that. He's not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don't need a Savior. He came to save his people in their imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He's not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief. You know that people who live above a certain latitude and experience very long winter nights can become depressed and even suicidal, because something in our bodies requires whole spectrum light for a certain number of hours a day. Our spiritual requirement for light is just as desperate and as deep as our physical need for light. Jesus is the light of the world. We know that this world is a dark place sometimes, but we need not walk in darkness. The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, and the people who walk in darkness can have a bright companion. We need him, and He is ready to come to us, if we'll open the door and let him.

A human being basically could not live alone. I had always thought of one’s soul as an imperfect creature; God had created it that way to allow the need to exist –the need to have relationships with other people in order to always run after the one obsession that had humanity seeking it on regular basis –perfection. Whether that relationship was between family members, friends, co-workers or even a romantic relationship, it was always people’s way to achieve flawlessness since they couldn’t accomplish it on their own.

Why should I be perfect.. when I'm already imperfectly perfect. And that's what is unique and perfect about me.

Reading every day with children can't guarantee perfect outcomes for any family—not in grades, not in happiness, not in relationships. But it is as close to a miracle product as we can buy, and it doesn't cost a nickel. As a flawed, fallible person with an imperfect temper, I know that reading every night is not just the nicest thing I've done with my children but represents, without question, the best I have been able to give them as their mother.

Have we created a space in our families where our kids know that they belong. Where there are no prerequisites for worthiness, you don't have to hustle here for me to believe you're worthy of loving. You don't have to perform here for me to think that you belong here. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to get a certain grade on your test. You don't have to hit so many home-runs. You belong here.

My parents are humans too. This has been one of my greatest awakenings in adulthood: my parents being regular people, too. They have baggage and losses, grown up in imperfect homes with imperfect families just as I did. Life hasn’t been easy on either of them between the mixture of poor decisions and bad breaks; this world lacks perfection for us all.

I mostly felt fortunate, to have lived here, in this house, in this town, with this family and these parents, and tried to think of all the things that had influenced me along the way.

I pledge to: No longer look for an experience to be other than what it is. Not need an experience to make me happy but instead to make me grow. Not look to what I didn’t receive but instead to introspect on what I chose to give. Stop interpreting experiences based on outcome but instead interpret them based on process. Resist judging life or myself for not being perfect and instead to embrace the wholeness of the imperfections.

Spirit-led Jesus followers recognize that they are imperfect Christians working with other imperfect Christians to serve a perfect Christ. When we love and give to one another, then we grow as individuals and as the family of God.136

You can learn tips and tricks to help keep your home more put-together and beautiful. Or you can accept the fact that your home will be imperfect and that each season of your family’s life will bring different kinds of beautiful messes.

Often, our relationships become an unrealized quest for what is perfect, unfettered, and free of flaws. We expect our partners, spouses, and our friends to avoid missteps and to be magical mind readers. These secret expectations play a sinister part in many of the great tragedies of our lives: failed marriages, dissipated dreams, abandoned careers, outcast family, deserted children, and discarded friendships. We readily forget what we once knew as children: our flaws are not only natural but integral to our beings. They are interwoven into our soul’s DNA and yet we continually reject the crooked, wrinkled, mushy parts of our life rather than embrace them as the very essence of our beings. I once believed that aiming for perfection would land me in the realm of excellence. This, however, may not be the trajectory of how things happen. In fact, the pursuit of perfection may be the biggest obstacle to becoming whole. It seems essential to value hard work and determination and yet recognize that the road to excellence is littered with mistakes and subsequent lessons. Imperfection and excellence are intertwined. There is joy in our pain, strength in weakness, courage in compassion, and power in forgiveness.

Some days our friends don’t feel as loved as they should, so they spread that hurt around. We’re lucky we have a family that loves each other and is kind to each other. Sometimes we hurt each other’s feelings, too, but we apologize and then we come back around.

If you go to somebody's house for a barbecue, it is only a matter of time before a guest has six beers and begins to inveigh loudly about how the institution of marriage is a sham, how it's a violation of nature's will, how monogamy is an outmoded expectation that might have made sense for power-consolidating families in AD 600 but makes little sense now, when there's you know, high school flames you can look up on Facebook. This well-versed marriage critic will then burp loudly and fall asleep in a lawn chair for the rest of the night, which says all you need to know about his marriage.

You tend to be perfectionistic. Never feeling you have achieved enough or are enough can cause you to over-function. Over-functioning signals to other people that they can use you. All it takes is for someone to make you feel imperfect, and you reflexively jump into action. There’s a saying: Perfection is trauma all dressed up.

God is the ultimate judge of hypocrisy in the church, I decided; I would leave such judgment in God’s capable hands. I began to relax and grow softer, more forgiving of others. After all, who has a perfect spouse, or perfect parents or children? We do not give up on the institution of family because of its imperfections—why give up on the church?

Without people to pay attention to us, our lives would feel empty, like being alone on a stage without an audience. With this in mind, I would encourage people to think every once in a while about whether there are friends or family members going through a difficult time. Even though we may not have solutions to the problems they are facing, they will be grateful just to know we are willing to listen.

Everybody needs time alone. When you’ve spent the whole day at work being harassed by others, and then return home to find your family won’t leave you in peace, you can easily become annoyed and angry. At such times, do not blame yourself for getting annoyed. Instead, take some time for yourself by stopping by your favorite bookstore, coffee shop, or temple. Go for a quiet walk alone and listen to your favorite songs. Being alone makes the world pause for a moment and helps to restore harmony.

Rules vary with context. In the Ramayana, which takes place in Treta yuga, Vishnu is Ram, eldest son of a royal family. In the Mahabharata, which takes place in Dvapara yuga, Vishnu is Krishna, youngest son of a noble family, who is raised by cowherds but who performs as a charioteer. They are expected to behave differently. Ram is obligated to follow the rules of the family, clan and kingdom, and uphold family honour. Krishna is under no such obligation. This is why Krishna tells Arjuna to focus on dharma in his context (sva-dharma) rather than dharma in another’s context (para-dharma). Arjuna, better to do what you have been asked to do imperfectly than try to do perfectly what others have been asked to. All work has inadequacies; even fire is enveloped by smoke.—Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 18, verses 47 and 48 (paraphrased). In the Ramayana Ram upholds rules, while Ravana breaks them. In the Mahabharata Duryodhana upholds rules, while Krishna breaks them. As eldest sons of their respective clans, Ram and Duryodhana are obliged to uphold rules. Ravana, son of a Brahmin, and Krishna, raised by cowherds, are under no such obligations. Dharma, however, is upheld only by Ram and Krishna, not Ravana and Duryodhana. Ram is constantly concerned about his city Ayodhya’s welfare, while Ravana does not care if his Lanka burns. Krishna cares for the Pandavas, who happen to be the children of his aunt, but the Kauravas do not care for the Pandavas, who happen to be the children of their uncle. Dharma thus has nothing to with rules or obligations. It has to do with intent and caring for the other, be it your kingdom or your family.

1. Choose to love each other even in those moments when you struggle to like each other. Love is a commitment, not a feeling. 2. Always answer the phone when your husband/wife is calling and, when possible, try to keep your phone off when you’re together with your spouse. 3. Make time together a priority. Budget for a consistent date night. Time is the currency of relationships, so consistently invest time in your marriage. 4. Surround yourself with friends who will strengthen your marriage, and remove yourself from people who may tempt you to compromise your character. 5. Make laughter the soundtrack of your marriage. Share moments of joy, and even in the hard times find reasons to laugh. 6. In every argument, remember that there won’t be a winner and a loser. You are partners in everything, so you’ll either win together or lose together. Work together to find a solution. 7. Remember that a strong marriage rarely has two strong people at the same time. It’s usually a husband and wife taking turns being strong for each other in the moments when the other feels weak. 8. Prioritize what happens in the bedroom. It takes more than sex to build a strong marriage, but it’s nearly impossible to build a strong marriage without it. 9. Remember that marriage isn’t 50–50; divorce is 50–50. Marriage has to be 100–100. It’s not splitting everything in half but both partners giving everything they’ve got. 10. Give your best to each other, not your leftovers after you’ve given your best to everyone else. 11. Learn from other people, but don’t feel the need to compare your life or your marriage to anyone else’s. God’s plan for your life is masterfully unique. 12. Don’t put your marriage on hold while you’re raising your kids, or else you’ll end up with an empty nest and an empty marriage. 13. Never keep secrets from each other. Secrecy is the enemy of intimacy. 14. Never lie to each other. Lies break trust, and trust is the foundation of a strong marriage. 15. When you’ve made a mistake, admit it and humbly seek forgiveness. You should be quick to say, “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” 16. When your husband/wife breaks your trust, give them your forgiveness instantly, which will promote healing and create the opportunity for trust to be rebuilt. You should be quick to say, “I love you. I forgive you. Let’s move forward.” 17. Be patient with each other. Your spouse is always more important than your schedule. 18. Model the kind of marriage that will make your sons want to grow up to be good husbands and your daughters want to grow up to be good wives. 19. Be your spouse’s biggest encourager, not his/her biggest critic. Be the one who wipes away your spouse’s tears, not the one who causes them. 20. Never talk badly about your spouse to other people or vent about them online. Protect your spouse at all times and in all places. 21. Always wear your wedding ring. It will remind you that you’re always connected to your spouse, and it will remind the rest of the world that you’re off limits. 22. Connect with a community of faith. A good church can make a world of difference in your marriage and family. 23. Pray together. Every marriage is stronger with God in the middle of it. 24. When you have to choose between saying nothing or saying something mean to your spouse, say nothing every time. 25. Never consider divorce as an option. Remember that a perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. FINAL

White bread in Japan is a steroidal megaloaf called shokupan. Brioche-like and great for toasting, shokupan is sold in bags of four, six, or eight perfectly square slices, without heels. Where do the heels go? Out back with the imperfect vegetables? I bought shokupan several times before figuring out why the four-, six, and eight-slice sacks all sold for the same price. It's the same loaf, cut into thicker or thinner slices. Eight-slice shokupan is similar in thickness to Wonder bread. Six-slice shokupan is like what we buy in Seattle as Texas Toast (the fresh kind, not the frozen garlic bread). A piece of four-slice shokupan is like a Stephen King paperback. It would make a slot toaster cry out in pain. Iris and I liked the six-slice bread best and usually ate it toasted with melted butter and a sprinkle of sea salt.

Above all else, I want you to know that you are loved and lovable. You will learn this from my words and actions--the lessons on love are in how I treat you and how I treat myself. I want you to engage with the world from a place of worthiness. You will learn that you are worthy of love, belonging, and joy every time you see me practice self-compassion and embrace my own imperfections. We will practice courage in our family by showing up, letting ourselves be seen, and honoring vulnerability. We will share our stories of struggle and strength. There will always be room in our home for both. We will teach you compassion by practicing compassion with ourselves first; then with each other. We will set and respect boundaries; we will honor hard work, hope, and perseverance. Rest and play will be family values, as well as family practices. You will learn accountability and respect by watching me make mistakes and make amends, and by watching how I ask for what I need and talk about how I feel. I want you to know joy, so together we will practice gratitude. I want you to feel joy, so together we will learn how to be vulnerable. When uncertainty and scarcity visit, you will be able to draw from the spirit that is a part of our everyday life. Together we will cry and face fear and grief. I will want to take away your pain, but instead I will sit with you and teach you how to feel it. We will laugh and sing and dance and create. We will always have permission to be ourselves with each other. No matter what, you will always belong here. As you begin your Wholehearted journey, the greatest gift that I can give to you is to live and love with my whole heart and to dare greatly. I will not teach or love or show you anything perfectly, but I will let you see me, and I will always hold sacred the gift of seeing you. Truly, deeply, seeing you.

To the wreck hunters," Orion said, raising his water bottle, "And to whale songs." "To truthing," said Liv. "To tea leaves," said Felix. We kept toasting: To Fidelia and Ransome. To the rest of the Lyric passengers whose bones has been picked clean by fish. To adventures. Our voices overlapped and were indistinguishable. To baseball caps, to Patsy Cline. To whiskey and blow jobs and cunnilingus, birth control, treasure, no treasure, sleeping bags, bug spray, headphones, and crosswords. "To family," I called. "Surviving," said Sam. "Please can you keep it down!" yelled a voice from inside the kayakers' tent. "To angry, reluctant chaperones," Mariah stage-whispered. We all collapsed into stifled giggles, then put out the fire and trekked down to the beach to stage an impromtu, perfectly imperfect reading of Cousteau! by cell-phone light. Same had brought the latest printout of the script with him. That night, it didn't matter what had come before and what was going to come after. In that moment, we were the last true poets of the sea, and what mattered more than anything else was our quest.

Quickly I find another surprise. The boys are wilder writers — less careful of convention, more willing to leap into the new. I start watching the dozens of vaguely familiar girls, who seem to have shaved off all distinguishing characteristics. They are so careful. Careful about their appearance, what they say and how they say it, how they sit, what they write. Even in the five-minute free writes, they are less willing to go out from where they are — to go out there, where you have to go, to write. They are reluctant to show me rough work, imperfect work, anything I might criticize; they are very careful to write down my instructions word by word. They’re all trying themselves on day by day, hour by hour, I know — already making choices that will last too unfairly long. I’m surprised to find, after a few days, how invigorating it all is. I pace and plead for reaction, for ideas, for words, and gradually we all relax a little and we make progress. The boys crouch in their too-small desks, giant feet sticking out, and the girls perch on the edge, alert like little groundhogs listening for the patter of coyote feet. I begin to like them a lot. Then the outlines come in. I am startled at the preoccupation with romance and family in many of these imaginary futures. But the distinction between boys and girls is perfectly, painfully stereotypical. The boys also imagine adventure, crime, inventions, drama. One expects war with China, several get rich and lose it all, one invents a time warp, another resurrects Jesus, another is shot by a robber. Their outlines are heavy on action, light on response. A freshman: “I grow populerity and for the rest of my life I’m a million air.” [sic] A sophomore boy in his middle age: “Amazingly, my first attempt at movie-making won all the year’s Oscars. So did the next two. And my band was a HUGE success. It only followed that I run the country.” Among the girls, in all the dozens and dozens of girls, the preoccupation with marriage and children is almost everything. They are entirely reaction, marked by caution. One after the other writes of falling in love, getting married, having children and giving up — giving up careers, travel, college, sports, private hopes, to save the marriage, take care of the children. The outlines seem to describe with remarkable precision the quietly desperate and disappointed lives many women live today.

To understand how shame is influenced by culture, we need to think back to when we were children or young adults, and we first learned how important it is to be liked, to fit in, and to please others. The lessons were often taught by shame; sometimes overtly, other times covertly. Regardless of how they happened, we can all recall experiences of feeling rejected, diminished and ridiculed. Eventually, we learned to fear these feelings. We learned how to change our behaviors, thinking and feelings to avoid feeling shame. In the process, we changed who we were and, in many instances, who we are now. Our culture teaches us about shame—it dictates what is acceptable and what is not. We weren’t born craving perfect bodies. We weren’t born afraid to tell our stories. We weren’t born with a fear of getting too old to feel valuable. We weren’t born with a Pottery Barn catalog in one hand and heartbreaking debt in the other. Shame comes from outside of us—from the messages and expectations of our culture. What comes from the inside of us is a very human need to belong, to relate. We are wired for connection. It’s in our biology. As infants, our need for connection is about survival. As we grow older, connection means thriving—emotionally, physically, spiritually and intellectually. Connection is critical because we all have the basic need to feel accepted and to believe that we belong and are valued for who we are. Shame unravels our connection to others. In fact, I often refer to shame as the fear of disconnection—the fear of being perceived as flawed and unworthy of acceptance or belonging. Shame keeps us from telling our own stories and prevents us from listening to others tell their stories. We silence our voices and keep our secrets out of the fear of disconnection. When we hear others talk about their shame, we often blame them as a way to protect ourselves from feeling uncomfortable. Hearing someone talk about a shaming experience can sometimes be as painful as actually experiencing it for ourselves. Like courage, empathy and compassion are critical components of shame resilience. Practicing compassion allows us to hear shame. Empathy, the most powerful tool of compassion, is an emotional skill that allows us to respond to others in a meaningful, caring way. Empathy is the ability to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes—to understand what someone is experiencing and to reflect back that understanding. When we share a difficult experience with someone, and that person responds in an open, deeply connected way—that’s empathy. Developing empathy can enrich the relationships we have with our partners, colleagues, family members and children. In Chapter 2, I’ll discuss the concept of empathy in great detail. You’ll learn how it works, how we can learn to be empathic and why the opposite of experiencing shame is experiencing empathy. The prerequisite for empathy is compassion. We can only respond empathically if we are willing to hear someone’s pain. We sometimes think of compassion as a saintlike virtue. It’s not. In fact, compassion is possible for anyone who can accept the struggles that make us human—our fears, imperfections, losses and shame. We can only respond compassionately to someone telling her story if we have embraced our own story—shame and all. Compassion is not a virtue—it is a commitment.

In the world of mental health, the lowest-functioning clients and the highest-functioning clients receive the worst care. The lowest-functioning clients typically struggle with serious mental illnesses that are maintained more than cured. And, because of downward drift that draws a disproportionate number of such patients into the lower income brackets, these clients often do not have access to top-notch care. The highest-functioning clients, on the other hand, usually have a lot going for them, including family or schools that connect them with private therapists when needed. These high-functioning clients are what therapists call YAVIS—young, attractive, verbal, intelligent, and successful—and these qualities bestow all sorts of social and psychological advantages. Being young means, as a colleague once put it, “that you haven’t completely screwed up your life yet.” Being verbal allows you to easily exchange a common currency with friends and bosses as you parlay being talkative into social status. Intelligence aids achievement and problem-solving, and even leadership. Successful people are generally brimming with confidence. And, as Aristotle said, “beauty is a greater recommendation than any letter of introduction.” So, YAVIS clients are well received nearly everywhere they go, and many therapists light up when one comes walking in the door. Still, there are two paths to being smart and charming when you are young: Life has been good or life has been bad. When life has been good, maybe someone goes to see a therapist for a while because some isolated thing is not currently going well. Most likely, the difficulty will be resolved quickly and the client will be on his way. When life has been bad, someone goes to see a therapist because even though things look pretty on the outside the person feels horrible on the inside, and this is a discrepancy that even many therapists cannot hold. Sometimes it is just too jarring to imagine that someone who seems so perfect has lived a life that has been so imperfect. What results is a therapy where the client’s image gets in the way of the help that he or she needs. The client has come to focus on what has not gone well, but the therapist is blinded by what has. Too often, being successful when you are young is about survival. Some people are good at hiding their troubles. They are good at “falling up.

The Inner Critic really wants you to be okay. It really wants you to make it in the world, to have a good job, to make enough money. It really wants you to be loved, to be successful, to be accepted, to have a family. It developed in your early years to protect your vulnerability by helping you to adapt to the world around you and to meet its requirements, whatever they might be. In order to do its job properly, it needed to curb your natural inclinations and to make you acceptable to others by criticizing and correcting your behavior before other people could criticize or reject you. In this way, it reasoned, it could earn love and protection for you as well as save you much shame and hurt. However, the Inner Critic often does not know when to stop. It does not know when enough is enough. It has a tendency to grow until it is out of control and begins to undermine us and to do real damage. Its original intent gets lost in the sands of time. Like a well-trained CIA agent, the Inner Critic has learned how to infiltrate every portion of your life, checking you out in minute detail for weakness and imperfections. Since its main job is to protect you from being too vulnerable in the world, it must know everything about you that might be open to attack from the outside. But, like a renegade CIA agent, at some point the Critic oversteps its bounds, takes matters into its own hands, and begins to operate on its own agenda. The information, which was originally supposed to be for your overall defense and to promote your general well-being, is now being used against you, the very person it was meant to protect. With the Critic’s original aims and purposes forgotten, all that is left for it is the excitement of the chase and the wonderfully triumphant feeling of conquest, as it operates secretly and independently of any outside control. When the Critic starts to outgrow its initial usefulness in this way, there is real trouble. At this point, the Inner Critic makes you feel dreadful about yourself. With your Inner Critic watching your every move, you become self-conscious, awkward, and ever more fearful about making a mistake. You may even stop trying because the Critic tells you that you are going about things all wrong and will undoubtedly fail. Although, underneath all of this, the Critic may want you to be so perfect that you will not fail, its effect is to block any attempts you might make. The Inner Critic kills your creativity. How can you possibly try anything new or different when you know that you will do something wrong?

I am THAT, I AM! Why should I be perfect.. when I'm already imperfectly perfect. And that's what is unique and perfect about me. I love that I am that I love that I am!

I have the love of the greatest man and his family. But most of all, I have the love of my own self and each and every perfectly imperfect moment I’ve lived, loved, and won.

Want to stop feeling depleted, anxious, and unsatisfied in times of crisis? Want to find the best solution to your problems? The secret to living your best life is to focus on your strengths, not weaknesses. You aren't selfish to recharge before giving your best to your family. You don't have to be perfect to be happy.

No families are perfect. We’re all just imperfect people who can’t give up on one another.

It was human imperfection that kept human beings so isolated. It was crying for the moon to ask for a perfect relationship with another while one remained what one was. And meanwhile, until one was something different, to say that one's marriage worked was to count oneself supremely blessed.

Choosing authenticity is not an easy choice. E. E. Cummings wrote, “To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself—means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight—and never stop fighting.” “Staying real” is one of the most courageous battles that we’ll ever fight. When we choose to be true to ourselves, the people around us will struggle to make sense of how and why we are changing. Partners and children might feel fearful and unsure about the changes they’re seeing. Friends and family may worry about how our authenticity practice will affect them and our relationships with them. Some will find inspiration in our new commitment; others may perceive that we’re changing too much—maybe even abandoning them or holding up an uncomfortable mirror. It’s not so much the act of authenticity that challenges the status quo—I think of it as the audacity of authenticity. Most of us have shame triggers around being perceived as self-indulgent or self-focused. We don’t want our authenticity to be perceived as selfish or narcissistic. When I first started mindfully practicing authenticity and worthiness, I felt like every day was a walk through a gauntlet of gremlins. Their voices can be loud and unrelenting: “What if I think I’m enough, but others don’t?” “What if I let my imperfect self be seen and known, and nobody likes what they see?” “What if my friends/family/co-workers like the perfect me better … you know, the one who takes care of everything and everyone?” Sometimes, when we push the system, it pushes back. The pushback can be everything from eye rolls and whispers to relationship struggles and feelings of isolation. There can also be cruel and shaming responses to our authentic voices. In my research on authenticity and shame, I found that speaking out is a major shame trigger for women. Here’s how the research participants described the struggle to be authentic: Don’t make people feel uncomfortable but be honest. Don’t upset anyone or hurt anyone’s feelings but say what’s on your mind. Sound informed and educated but not like a know-it-all. Don’t say anything unpopular or controversial but have the courage to disagree with the crowd. I also found that men and women struggle when their opinions, feelings, and beliefs conflict with our culture’s gender expectations. For example, research on the attributes that we associate with “being feminine” tells us that some of the most important qualities for women are thin, nice, and modest.1 That means if women want to play it totally safe, we have to be willing to stay as small, quiet, and attractive as possible. When looking at the attributes associated with masculinity, the researchers identified these as important attributes for men: emotional control, primacy of work, control over women, and pursuit of status.2 That means if men want to play it safe, they need to stop feeling, start earning, and give up on meaningful connection.

In order to change, however, you have to be willing to acknowledge the need for change—in other words, you have to come to terms with the fact that everything in your life isn’t perfect. There is this concept—among not just Scientologists, but everyone—that we are all supposed to have it together. Whether it’s our work, love lives, family relationships, or even feelings about ourselves, we need to present this idealized image to others. We are so conditioned when asked “How are you?” to say “Good” or “Great.” But why not “I don’t know. I hate everyone today.” Why are we so scared to be judged imperfect or to talk about how we really feel? To be authentic? If we can just tell each other how and what we are really doing, step outside of what we believe others think we should be, the result can be therapeutic.

If life is a river, we can see only a small patch of it. A little in front of us, some behind. We don’t know when we’re going to run into a tributary or hit a waterfall. If you could pull back and up to see how it all connects to the ocean, if you could see the whole story of all of your parents and their parents, would it alter your memories of them? If you could do that, even for a moment, you’d get God’s sense of humor. You’d know your story is perfect. That your terribly imperfect parents were perfect for you, that your life could only have been written by and for you.

We sometimes resort to verbal threats in the hope of making people come to their senses. For example: If you don’t do what I want, I will take away something that is important to you, or in the future I won’t give you what you need. This happens especially between family members. Unfortunately, such words won’t change people’s minds. They will only hurt them and make them dig in their heels. Instead, calmly explain why something is important to you, so your words don’t sound like threats or ultimatums. Change will last longer when it’s not forced but when it comes about because they have been convinced of its need.

Perfection always lasts in each other's Imperfection

We had created the shell of a perfect family, with happy photos all over Facebook to prove it. We had to keep our imperfections and the shattered pieces of our marriage out of people’s sight so that the unspoiled image remained intact. – Yaser

I have come to learn that I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. Perfect is too hard. I'm perfectly fine with being perfectly imperfect. -attributed to Lionel Messi

Let there be light. Gen. 1:3 Let there be enlightenment; let there be understanding. Darkness. Gen. 1:4 Ignorance; lack of enlightenment and understanding. Eden. Gen. 2:8 A delightful place; temporal life. Garden. Gen. 2:8 Metaphorically—a wife; a family. Tree of life in the midst of the garden. Gen. 2:9 Sex; posterity, progeny. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Gen. 2:9 Moral law; the knowledge of good and evil. The tree of life. Gen. 2:9 Eternal life. The tree of good and evil. Gen. 2:17 Metaphorically—sexual relationship. Good. Gen. 2:17 Anything perfect. Evil. Gen. 2:17 Anything imperfect; contrary to good; immature. Naked. Gen. 2:25 Exposed; ashamed. Serpent. Gen. 3:1 An enemy; deception. Thorns and thistles. Gen. 3:18 Grievances and difficulties. Sent forth from the garden. Gen. 3:23 A loss of harmony; a lost paradise. God took him away. Gen. 5:24 He died painlessly. He had a heart attack. Sons of God. Gen. 6:2 Good men; the descendants of Seth. My spirit shall not dwell in man forever. Gen. 6:3 I have become weary and impatient. (A scribal note.) The Lord was sorry that He made man. Gen. 6:6 (A scribal note. See Old Testament Light—Lamsa.) I set my bow in the clouds. Gen. 9:13 I set the rainbow in the sky. I have lifted up my hands. Gen. 14:22 I am taking a solemn oath. Thy seed. Gen. 17:7 Your offspring; your teaching. Angels. Gen. 19:1 God’s counsel; spirits; God’s thoughts. Looking behind. Gen. 19:17 Regretting; wasting time. A pillar of salt. Gen. 19:26 Lifeless; stricken dead. As the stars of heaven. Gen. 22:17 Many in number; a great multitude. Went in at the gate. Gen. 23:18 Mature men who sat at the counsel. Hand under thigh. Gen. 24:2 Hand under girdle; a solemn oath. Tender eyed. Gen. 29:17 Attractive eyes. He hath sold us. Gen. 31:15 He has devoured our dowry. Wrestling with an angel. Gen. 32:24 Being suspicious of a pious man. Coat of many colors. Gen. 37:23 A coat with long sleeves meaning learning, honor and a high position. Spilling seed on the ground. Gen. 38:9 Spilling semen on the ground. (An ancient practice of birth control.) No man shall lift up his hand or foot. Gen. 41:44 No man shall do anything without your approval. Put his hand upon thine eyes. Gen. 46:4 Shall close your eyes upon your death bed. Laying on of hands. Gen. 48:14 Blessing and approving a person. His right hand upon the head. Gen. 48:17 A sincere blessing. Unstable as water. Gen. 49:4 Undecided; in a dilemma. The sceptre shall not depart from Judah. Gen. 49:10 There shall always be a king from the lineage of Judah. Washed his garments in wine. Gen. 49:11 He will become an owner of many vineyards. His teeth white with milk. Gen. 49:12 He will have abundant flocks of sheep. His bow abode in strength. Gen. 49:24 He will become a valiant warrior. The stone of Israel. Gen. 49:24 The strong race of Israel. He gathered up his feet. Gen. 49:33 He stretched out his feet—He breathed his last breathe; he died.

Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might have found more suitable mates. But the 'real soul-mate' is the one you are actually married to. You really do very little choosing: life and circumstance do most of it (though if there is a God these must be His instruments, or His appearances). It is notorious that in fact happy marriages are more common where the 'choosing' by the young persons is even more limited, by parental or family authority, as long as there is a social ethic of plain unromantic responsibility and conjugal fidelity. … In this fallen world we have as our only guides, prudence, wisdom (rare in youth, too late in age), a clean heart, and fidelity of will. Letter 43 From a letter to Michael Tolkien

My actions are petty, I know, but I couldn’t control myself. No one gets to speak like that about my husband. We may have an arranged marriage, but he’s treated me better in the last twenty-four hours than some of my family members ever have.

You are perfect, even in your imperfection." --Carrie Soto is Back

The things I did say, and more painfully the things I was unable to say, play over and over again on the movie projector in my head, tinged at times with terrible regret. These arguments and discords can never be undone now. They were our relationship, our family, our time together despite their faults. But still perfect in their own way. Like a social media page in my mind, these moments will always be there, frozen in time. Imperfect. Perfect, actually.

The most challenging aspect of psychological/emotional abuse is that is deniable by our family members and impossible to prove. Our family members don’t believe they are abusing us because, by definition, they view themselves as perfect, and perfect people don’t do imperfect things, such as emotionally manipulate their children. We as their children don’t realize we’re being manipulated because we believe the lies our toxic family members tell us, convinced everything is our fault and that we are the ones who are broken and destroying our family members.

There’s too much bad blood between us, Mr. Popov. I can’t let you operate in my city unless the feud between our Families is settled.” “Settled?” I take a sip of my drink and regard him. “And how do you plan we do that?” “Marriage. Specifically, between you and a Cosa Nostra woman.

We were always going to be like us. And that is perfectly imperfect. How it was always supposed to be.

I wished I could make him see what I saw. I wished I could make him feel it. But he was slippery and hollow inside. He was too perfect to ever view an imperfection as a gift. He was doomed to live his life looking impeccable while the aberrations, the imperfections, and the oddities of nature grew up around him.

Perfection isn't the gist of family's strength; it's found in the resilience despite imperfections.

I dare try on the idea that maybe, just maybe, my children will love me through my imperfections just as I have loved my father through his—that I don’t need to be perfect or even better to be worthy of our bond.

Whatever lays the first stress on behaviour or achievement; on orthodoxy, theological, moral, or social; on conformity to a system, a church, a moral type, or a code of conduct; on mere sinlessness, blamelessness, propriety, piety, or sanctity of an unearthly type—that is a departure from the Gospel idea of perfection; which is completeness of trust, and the definite self-assignment of faith amid much imperfection.

Now, after the dust has settled, I see the value in every single choice I have made, including the decisions that resulted in joy and happiness, and especially in the choices that have had catastrophic ends. Because it was through those dark times that I found my strength, that I became the woman I have always wanted to be. A woman who is not afraid to be herself. A woman who loves herself first, and who understands that only in doing this, can she love others. A woman who speaks her truth and then writes that truth. It is only from hitting rock bottom that I was able to shed all the parts of myself that were no longer serving me, and emerge to be the woman I am today. Nothing about me is perfect. I may never make the choices that society or my family or friends think I should make. But I believe that the beauty of an individual lies in her imperfections, her surprises, her unique way of being. And I no longer feel the need to stifle those lovely parts of myself. Instead, I’m revealing them, for all the world to see. My hope is that readers will walk away with this one simple but strong message: it’s okay to be who you are.

During the process of redesigning the NPR News mobile app, senior designer Libby Bawcombe wanted to know how to make design decisions that were more inclusive to a diverse audience, and more compassionate to that audience’s needs. So she led a session to identify stress cases for news consumers, and used the information she gathered to guide the team’s design decisions. The result was dozens of stress cases around many different scenarios, such as: • A person feeling anxious because a family member is in the location where breaking news is occurring • An English language learner who is struggling to understand a critical news alert • A worker who can only access news from their phone while on a break from work • A person who feels upset because a story triggered their memory of a traumatic event13 None of these scenarios are what we think of as “average.” Yet each of these is entirely normal: they’re scenarios and feelings that are perfectly understandable, and that any of us could find ourselves experiencing. That’s not to say NPR plans to customize its design for every single situation. Instead, says Bawcombe, it’s an exercise in seeing the problem space differently: Identifying stress cases helps us see the spectrum of varied and imperfect ways humans encounter our products, especially taking into consideration moments of stress, anxiety and urgency. Stress cases help us design for real user journeys that fall outside of our ideal circumstances and assumptions.14 Putting this new lens on the product helped the design team see all kinds of decisions differently.

Kate McDermott taught pie making around the world; I had taken her class several years before. It hadn't made me a baker, but it had given me some perspective on the art of pies. Mostly I had been taken by her attitude. "I make ugly pies," she told me. "They don't have to look perfect." That day Kate had ably patched ripped piecrust, shoring up weak spots where the dough had been rolled too thin. She didn't think it needed to be perfect. "Just fix any mistakes you make," she said without concern. "It doesn't matter." Kate's approach was breezy and relaxed. She barely followed a recipe. "See how it feels," she told me. "Trust yourself." As I ran my hands through the butter cut into flour, I felt emboldened. Things didn't have to be perfect. Kate seemed at peace with imperfections, her pies beautiful in their rustic uniqueness, no two ever the same. Perhaps the secret was finding comfort in the way things were: a process of accepting rather than hiding. The irony was that I liked it when other people let me see them as they truly were: less-than-perfect houses, disordered garages, overdue library books. The imperfections in my friends' lives didn't make me like them any less—they made me like them more. I felt more comfortable with the flaws in my own life, more intimately connected to them; it made me feel like family. I knew this intellectually, but it was harder to apply. I might be able to appreciate rustic charm in a pie, to enjoy the comfortable clutter of a friend's house, but I held myself to a higher standard—one I never managed to achieve. I just couldn't give myself that same compassion. But rolling out and patching the rips in my pie dough that afternoon, as Kate had shown me, I began to wonder if there might not be another way. And when I pulled the pie out of the oven, bumpy, irregular, burnished and glossy and smelling like raspberry heaven, for a moment I thought it was beautiful. My beautifully imperfect pie.

It’s not so much the act of authenticity that challenges the status quo—I think of it as the audacity of authenticity. Most of us have shame triggers around being perceived as self-indulgent or self-focused. We don’t want our authenticity to be perceived as selfish or narcissistic. When I first started mindfully practicing authenticity and worthiness, I felt like every day was a walk through a gauntlet of gremlins. Their voices can be loud and unrelenting: “What if I think I’m enough, but others don’t?” “What if I let my imperfect self be seen and known, and nobody likes what they see?” “What if my friends/ family/ co-workers like the perfect me better … you know, the one who takes care of everything and everyone?

Life is life. It’s not cut-and-dried. It’s not clean edges and perfect circles. It’s imperfect and lovely and heartbreaking and tragic. It’s full of laughter and tears and pain and longing. The secret to living life the way God intended is for each and every one of us never to take for granted this gift we’ve been given.

I’ve been married for almost forty years. It’s never been perfect. Love is literally two imperfect people figuring out how to be the best they can be for each other. It’s a never-ending process. It’s work. You just have to want it with that person bad enough to work at it every day. You say you love him, right?

There are certain unwritten rules when your father is the leader of the Cosa Nostra Family. One of these is that you can’t be seen in casual clothes in public. Upholding a certain image is imperative, after all. I’ve never truly understood the impact my father had on every element of my life until I moved out. Sometimes, I wish I had never left home. I know that one day soon I’ll have to go back to that existence, and it might have been easier if I didn’t get to know the other side of life. The alternate reality. The normal side—where you don’t need to pretend to be someone else in order to be accepted.

I tilt my head, and my gaze follows my cub’s hand as it comes to rest on the other girl’s back. I’m trying to figure out this gesture. Human interactions, especially between people with familial connections, have always fascinated me. Probably because I’ve never understood them that well. This move, for example. Is it an unconscious action or a deliberate one? Is she offering comfort, reassurance? And if so, what’s necessitating the need? The other girl seems fine to me.

Most of our Family’s weddings are fake because couples get married out of obligation, not for love. It sucks.

Friendship. Family. Those are just words for me that bear no meaning, like a foreign language I can hear but cannot comprehend.