Soon after posting ‘Venus’ last night, my partner commented that he liked the sentiments but the post was not up to the writing he knew I could do. At first I smarted and felt teary. Having survived a childhood and early adulthood where I was continuously criticised for things I didn’t have much control over, I still find criticism hard to take.
I work as an editor in real life. No, not the head of a newspaper or magazine sort of editor, the sort of editor who works through someone else’s writing to make it better. It’s a career for perfectionists, not for the imperfect. The spelling error, the typo, in fact any mistake at all is your enemy.
I struggle with all my imperfections: my imperfect body, my imperfect family, my imperfect relationship, my imperfect home, my imperfect job, my imperfect finances, in fact my imperfect past, present and future. And let’s not forget my imperfect thinking.
I wish I could accept my imperfections. If only I could embrace them.