I still remember sitting in her living room, holding my squirmy two-year-old girl on my lap.
My friend spoke about comparisons and how she’d been tearing herself apart with them for years. I leaned in.
“I’d compare my clothes to that friend’s, who always looked perfectly put together. I’d compare the mess in my house to that other friend whose house looked like a magazine spread. I’d compare my figure to that other friend who’s never struggled with healthy eating.”
She continued, “I realized I was comparing my whole imperfect self — the one I knew better than anyone — to the perfect isolated parts of her and her and her that I saw all around me.”
That conversation built on the something new that had begun taking shape in me. Helped develop new eyes to see when I was doing the same, with a new desire for grace for myself, and her, and her.
Yet today, when I look across the school playground or through the color-coordinated world of mothers on the internet, even around a circle of friends, it is easy for me to compare the imperfect me to the parsed out bits and pieces of others and see myself forever coming up short.
Recently, I’ve had conversations with various readers of this blog — whether person to person or in the comments section — who’ve held up a piece of what I’ve written about my everyday life as evidence of the ideal.
The ideal marriage.
The ideal children.
The ideal friendships.
The ideal life.
Dear friends, let me proclaim this to you from my desk, cluttered with markers and a yo-yo and a pile of to-do’s, from this chair holding a woman with extra bad morning hair sitting in flannel pajama pants who should be on her way to meet friends this morning and is running late as usual … if you do not already know (and it feels silly to say because it’s such a personal no-duh from where I sit), my life is not perfect.
My two eldest children fight like rabid dogs, and I pull out the cliches and yell, “Just love each other! It’s not rocket science!” and “I’m not going to stand for you girls living like enemies in this house!”
Two of my daughters rush to comfort me when they see me upset at the conflict (which breaks my heart because I don’t want them feeling they need to take care of me). Another daughter stomps up the stairs declaring that I probably don’t care if I never see her again.
I snap at my husband for unlocking the house and leaving me to unload the kids by myself. “I don’t need you to ready the house. I need your help. You’re not doing me any favors here!”
I zone out while flipping through blogs on my phone when I should be sitting with my kids and asking them more questions about school.
Some days, I feel lonely, though I’ve been blessed with dear friends.
This week, I have struggled with anger, confusion and disappointment. I’ve felt left out. I’ve struggled to love.
I am learning to say no — with mixed results.
This blog is a place I work things out, and for those of you who’ve read for a while, you know that takes many shapes. Often it can be a celebration of what is good and right in my corner of the world because I need to remember the glimmers of beauty while I work out the hard things, and I’m a person who needs to work out the hard things.
I can easily fall into the rabbit hole, as my dear friend said this week — the hole of discouragement, depression, anxiety, overwhelm. Yes, I know that pit well.
And sometimes I’m just slugging it out or sitting with the questions, and I don’t have much to say about it here. I’m simply in process.
And sometimes I choose to delight in the beauty of light or the tenderness of my children in the midst, so I do not forget those things that shine on gray rainy days with kids who seem unable to breathe without annoying each other.
I am choosing to see the pure and lovely because they are gifts. Just that. And what I choose to see grows.
This morning, whatever your brand of imperfect, I feel the need to remind you:
You are not on the messed-up outside looking in at the shiny-right perfect. There is no such thing. No one has this life figured out. Not a one.
Imperfect lives, in all their shapes, sizes and brands of dysfunction — these are the way of humans in this world.
Today be released to live yours out without comparison, without an impossible standard of ideal hanging over your head and unless it gives you joy, without coordinating colors.
Amen.
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Linking up with Emily Wierenga at Imperfect Prose.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
![Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: "And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart." The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!](https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/t51.2885-15/s320x320/e35/17934124_1877271335863004_8139172358331039744_n.jpg "Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: \"And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart.\" The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!")
I know you are real and live real life the best you can, like the rest of us. Beautiful words sometimes arise from the most troubled and tortured souls. Writers are notorious for being crackers and hard as hell to live with. Perhaps it’s the over-sensitivity. Perhaps we prayed stupid prayers about wanting to understand and experience life. However, it seems to me you have navigated with your gift a bit better than some.
I thank you for this window into your life. We all live here, don’t we?
Geez, writers. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em. :) Thank you for your encouragement in all my places of honesty and vulnerability. Thankful for you.
The comparison game has been a huge struggle for me lately. Just this week it came up in my Bible study group, and a gal mentioned something she thought was perfect in my life … and it wasn’t even something that I do! Oh the craziness! We’re all comparing ourselves to each other. I appreciated this post. It was very timely for me.
Isn’t that insane?! Cori, why do we do this to ourselves? Life is hard enough without us imagining crazy stuff to make things harder. I hope we can all embrace just a little more of the unique wonderful mess that is each of us. Just a little bit more.
And then you’re 55 and find yourself ridiculously comparing yourself to someone 20 years younger than you. Paul was right in Corinthians when he talked about comparing ourselves with others and how it’s not wise. (2 Cor, 10:12-I’ve got this one marked in my Bible as a reminder to myself.) I’m afraid it’s been a common problem for forever.
I’m afraid you’re right, Elizabeth.
Yep. I think we all do it. I find myself in every single part you wrote about. Those actions and feelings and words that we don’t want to have or be or say, yet our humanness comes out. I believe that we all have these struggles, yet I STILL play the comparison game. I’ve written a couple of posts recently with much the same heart as this. Comparing doesn’t help a thing and we are usually wrong anyway because we are not living in that “perfect” mother’s shoes and we don’t see that she is feeling lonely just like I am or berating her self for losing her patience once agin, just like I am! :)
I very much enjoyed reading this! Blessings to you!
I’m sad to see you do this to yourself, but glad to know I’m not alone. And from the response I got on this post — FB and the like — there are so many more like us. You are so right, too, Deborah, about the perfect mother…she DOES NOT EXIST! Blessings to you, friend!
I joke that I just want to be the best of every woman – this one who gardens wonderfully, that one who cooks amazingly, the one who can wear anything and look great, and the one who has great patience with her kids. Too much to ask?
We all judge this way, and you are so right – everyone puts their best foot forward most of the time.
You be the best YOU, and I’ll be the best ME! The flaws will encourage as well as the perfections.
It’s a deal. :)
Ashley,
I grinned and agreed with you here just now, nodding my head. Thanks for throwing wide your door, and sharing the healing truth that we all need to hear and say more often. :)
Nice to meet you. I’m hopping over from the Imperfect Prose link up.
Jennifer Dougan
http://www.jenniferdougan.com
Thank you, Jennifer. I so like that about throwing wide the door. I’m trying to do that more and more often. Great to see you here.
Dear Ashley
We are truly blessed when we receive a good dose of godly wisdom and tons of grace to stop comparing ourselves with others. What a waste of time and more often than not, the people who we compare ourselves with, are playing the same comparing game.
Much love, dear friend
Mia
Grace is right. And, as you say, such a waste of time! Let’s just stop. OK?
What a great post, and so true. It’s funny: I’ve learned that even when we (as writers) try to share the yucky things about ourselves, people tend to disregard or think it’s “not so bad as all that.” God bless them, right? I’m, like, no my house really is a big hot hoopty mess right now! I really haven’t showered for a couple days…or brushed my teeth today. My kids really do watch too many cartoons! I have time only to be my best self, and barely time for that. Way too hard to try and be anybody else!
A hot hoopty mess…haha! I love that, Brandee. And I relate. I barely have time to be my best self…ain’t that the truth?
Thank you for these beautiful, real-life truths.
Amen.
Hallelujah.
I love you.
That’s all I have to say for now.
I love you back. :)
I think you sound like my long lost twin :) Oh, friend, THANK YOU for putting LIFE to the page- it’s so easy to assume as we read beautiful writing that the reality behind those words is unusually beautiful as well. What makes you BEAUTIFUL, friend, is the way you shine through the “holes’ of imperfect. Glad to know someone else loses it now and then. Guess I’m not alone. Wish I could knock on your door, sip a cup of coffee with you in my plaid pjs, and let you know I’ve felt lonely this week, too. DESPITE all the people in my world. So glad I “visited” here!
I wish you and I could hang out in our jammies amidst the mess together and let it all hang out. :) Truly, your presence here is a gift to me, Alicia. And after how I felt at the end of an exhausting night with three, I can only imagine that with five little ones I’d be having a whole lot more imperfect going on.
Oh how I have doused the guilt and comparison fuels and lit the match. And it burns deep and it is a broken part of me that deep fries the joy.
Thank you for this Ashley, this heartfelt write. It offers grace and freedom. And I accept both and say thank you, you the messenger and pointer to the God gifts.
He longs for us to receive the sweet grace and live in freedom from the shackles that bind us up. Those rope burns wound tight around a soul burn too.
Amen to grace and freedom and joy that is not deep fried. I love that. Thank you, sweetheart.
Ashley, this is one Brilliant and full-of-Grace post. Some may comment on how “perfect” is this or that part of our lives…or call us a perfectionist, meaning it entirely as a compliment. The human tendency may be to puff up a bit at such “praise”. But there is such power and such grace in bursting those false bubbles and confessing our utter imperfectness. Such freedom flows from bare honesty, ego-ic walls of separation fall, a door opens, spirits rise, hearts may heal. Thank you so much for saying it all so well, again. Much love dear girl, your mama (who thinks, whatever your scrapes, messes, short-comings or “failings” you are perfect, as you are, and as you are becoming. I just can’t help it.) xx
Yes, yes, yes to freedom! And becoming who we are each to become! Love you and thank you for encouraging me in that journey, Mama. :)
Oh how He loves us and oh, how beautifully you’ve pointed us to that, Ashley. Thank you for not riding the coat tails of affection so that the rest of us remain breathless, running behind. You have called out the truth and because of that, you have set us all free. I love you for many things, friend, but I think I might love you the most for this. Thank you.
Sweet Holly, thank you. Thank you. Wow.
Your words here are soo beautiful & soo needed! I love you just for who you are friend & hope you have a blessed birthday tomorrow! :)
Thank you, honey. Be encouraged. And thanks for the birthday wishes. A sweet day it was, indeed.
Precious friend, your words this day, they hold a mirror up to my soul, and I have to say, it is an encouragement, to be in these places together. I love you, all the more, for your willingness to bare yourself in the honest place, to call out what is true, to work out the hard things, and to look for and celebrate and create beauty. Thank you, thank you.
Thank you, darling friend.
I understand this quiet sitting while sorting through the proces….”And sometimes I’m just slugging it out or sitting with the questions, and I don’t have much to say about it here. I’m simply in process.”
Thanks for sharing!
I’m glad to know you relate to that too, Darlene. Thank you. So good to have “met” you today.
I had a girlfriend the other day ask my child as we were hurrying her to her MOPS class (since we were running late, as usual) if the bread she had clutched in her hand (breakfast that was supposed to be eaten in the car on our way to church…because, did I mention we were late….again?) was “bread that mommy made.” I busted out laughing. I don’t even know where she got the idea that I made my own bread. I tried for a few months a year or two ago, but gave up because I couldn’t find a recipe that I liked and my family liked and didn’t crumble. I think I’d mentioned on Facebook a few weeks prior that I’d pulled out my bread machine (the first time in many, many months) and _completely_screwed_things_up_….but seriously….where to people get these ideas? I made one costume for my husband for Halloween (the first time the sewing machine had been pulled out in about two years)….and I got introduced as “making my own clothes!” Say what?!!!
If someone looks at my life and sees anything admirable, I can tell them for certain that it’s not me they’re seeing. I’m a screwed up, hot mess. Anyone who knows me at all should know that. What surprised me about both of the things I mentioned above is that both of those ladies _should_ have known me well enough to know better!
I am so happy to read this!! I have had a few conversations in the last year or so about this very thing! Also about how we always want to show our good side to those we are a little envious of. I decided to start a blog and Facebook page of my own to address this…it’s called BeForever31! I think being the Proverbial “perfect” woman IS in fact possible, if only we support each other, build each other up, and, as you have done here, be honest with each other! I think it’s great that I have seen more women open up to each other like this! Thanks for inspiring all of us!
This is such a great post. It’s refreshing to encounter a real woman who’s not afraid to share her beloved and messy realness. I just posted a piece about this very issue called The Fantasies of Mothers on my blog (www.lorilara.com).
It was a long, frustrating (and comical, in hind sight) journey to adjust to the reality of motherhood.
My biggest enemy was the ridiculous standard I had for myself.
I’m looking forward to following you on your blog. :)
Great post, Ashley!
I choose Jesus. The only one I compare myself to, so I can try to be better every day, but not like other moms, just the best version of myself that I can muster. Yes, we are all so imperfect and, I thank God for Jesus to help me push that aside and still strive to serve. Great, important and relevant thoughts here for every mom. Don’t compare to other moms. Look to Jesus! We are beautifully and wonderfully made.
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