Flaws Revealed

Do you ever feel like that? 

Trying too hard to look a certain way or be a certain way. Trying too hard to get others to do/be what you think they ought to. Trying too hard to make the most of things. Trying too hard to get people to like you. Trying too hard to figure out all the answers. 

I had a moment, while talking to a stranger outside a few days ago, where I just felt exposed. It was something about the lighting and for whatever reason, I felt like every possible thing wrong with my face was suddenly visible to her (maybe even enhanced). Sometimes, when getting ready in the morning, I can position myself at least six inches away from the mirror and pretend that no one will see anything wrong on my face as long as I maintain that distance from them. But, in this particular moment, the two feet that separated us felt like centimeters. I was convinced she could see every pore, every blemish, every hair, every wrinkle… 

And so I stood in front of my mirror later, wondering how to fix the mess before me. How could I hide this, pluck that, trim these, apply this to that in order to achieve something else that’s better than this. It couldn’t be done. Not fully, anyway. Defeat.

It felt like a commentary on the rest of my life. That sometimes I feel like I can hide all the flaws, all the negativity if I just keep a decent distance from people. But sometimes, no matter how distant I may actually be, I feel like there’s absolutely no way to hide the bad. And I feel exposed. I feel like all the bad is too much for anyone to want to look at, too much for anyone to want to handle. It seeps out, and while sometimes I want to blame it all on the bad lighting… the truth is simply that it’s there–just like my physical imperfections. They just exist. And I can’t always do very much about them. 

When I feel exposed in all my imperfection, I want to bow out. I want to check out completely. If I can’t figure out a way to cover it up in the presence of others (or at least lessen it) and even myself, it’s easier to want to isolate myself. To confine myself to solitude where no one has to see or put up with the flaws. It’s like I want to quarantine myself until I get ‘better’…or at least can make a public appearance safely again. 

It’s the story of a perfectionist.

Sometimes, when I become aware of my flaws and how they may be affecting others… I am consumed by it. I am embarrassed. I feel like people might find me intolerable, annoying, hideous. I retreat, while simultaneously wanting affirmation…wanting to know that, imperfections included, I’m still wanted.

This is the part of the blog where I usually talk about how things are okay, and how no one is perfect, and how there’s something beautiful to being loved and loving others despite our imperfections.

But tonight I just kind of want to acknowledge that sometimes it sucks when we realize, again, that we aren’t perfect. And we can’t mask it. We can’t hide it. Sometimes it sucks when our flaws surface and others see them and we have no where to go.

It’s discouraging.
It’s defeating.
And sometimes it feels hopeless.

But sometimes, even in those times…even in the times where your pillows are soaked with tears, there is mercy that’s new each morning.

It was while I was still a sinner that Christ came to set me free.
I can’t lose sight of that.

Tomorrow is a new day. And maybe I don’t have to be so focused on hiding all the flaws and imperfections. Maybe I don’t have to be so worried about whether or not I’m exposing all of my junk to those around me. Maybe I can be more focused on something outside of myself.

At the end of the day, I have to remember that I have been redeemed.
At the beginning of the day, I have to remember that I have been redeemed.

There are second chances.