Not perfect

Feeling much better tonight after a genuinely helpful conversation with someone at work.

Home now, and cleaning the flat as there’s a tenancy inspection tomorrow. I never feel particularly comfortable with that – I know why they have to do it, but I feel judged. Also, I get stressed about everything being perfect so that they will let me stay when it comes to the tenancy renewal date.

Cleaning is one of the jobs that I find incredibly difficult. I can maintain a basic standard of cleanliness normally. But to do a proper clean is challenging. There is just too much to think about and I generally get overwhelmed before I even start. (I’m definitely getting a cleaner when I can afford one!) To make things go a little easier I always put music on. So put my iPod on ‘shuffle’ (keeps things interesting) and this song came on.

It’s been a little while since I’ve heard it, so I thought I’d stop and listen. And this time around, it really made me think. Parts of the song have always made me feel emotional, but it was the very end of the song that made me cry.

This is my brain, and it’s fine

It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time

It’s not perfect, but it’s mine

It’s not perfect

I’m not quite sure I’ve worked out how to work it

It’s not perfect, but it’s mine

[Tim Minchin, Not Perfect]

That’s not normally the bit that gets to me. It’s usually the verse before.

I have spent so long thinking that I have to be perfect. Because if I’m not perfect then Bad Things Happen. If I’m not perfect then people will find out I’m not like them. If I’m not perfect then people won’t like me.

Well, guess what? I’m not perfect. No-one is. I’m different; there’s no hiding that any more. And I haven’t quite worked out how to work this brain of mine, although I continue to work on it. If that means people don’t like me, there’s n0t a great deal I can do about that.

I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. (Actually, I don’t want to pretend anything any more.)

But tonight, I think maybe being perfect doesn’t matter that much. Maybe I don’t have to try to be perfect – it’s impossible anyway. Maybe all I have to do is try to be myself.

Which is a bit of a scary thought, really. I’m not sure who that is any more…


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