As women in today’s society, we are expected to be tough, but not too tough; hard working, but not so hard working that we can’t spend time with our families; sexy, but not so sexy that we flaunt ourselves; kind, but not pushovers; assertive, but not bitchy; available, but not needy; intelligent, but not snobby; down to earth, but care about your appearance and the list goes on and on. I have been envious of my husband recently, mainly because he only has one hat – be a good provider, father and a faithful husband, none of which seem too terribly difficult.

If I were a man, I would be killing it. As a woman, I feel like I am failing every single day. The days I do well at work, tend to be the days I fall short as a wife. The days I hit it out of the park as a wife, I struggle with being a good mother. No matter how much I struggle, there is always someone I cannot please. Maybe it’s just me? Maybe I am the one placing impossible standards on myself? Am I the only one who feels this way???

It is interesting that I choose to give grace to all of the people in my life, except for myself. I find it funny that I spend most of my day teaching other people to extend grace to themselves, but it is the area where I tend to struggle the most. Maybe that is why I am a therapist.  Day in and day out I am faced with the human condition, in all its complexity and messiness, and it is simply beautiful.  We are all broken people with wounds we are attempting to heal and that’s not a bad thing. I am a firm believer that our wounds are what make us human. One of my favorite forms of art is Kintsugi. This Japanese art form occurs when the artist fills in cracks and broken pieces of pottery or glass with gold. When translated, “Kin” (golden) and “tsugi” (joinery), means “golden repair”. This art form is the perfect expression of the human experience – the physical manifestation of beautifully broken.

My past continues to inform my future, and my old war wounds continue to shape me. I am beginning to realize that this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. My brokenness and struggle have been the catalysts of my transformation. I can hold other people’s pain, because I have learned to embrace my own. My  “broken” places have been replaced with a stronger substance and in all of my imperfection, I have found my beauty.

I continue to juggle all of my hats, but am beginning to give myself permission in the imperfection. Afterall, that is where true beauty lies.