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How I strive for perfection. How that strive doesn’t turn me into the lit angel I wish to be. My, how I have strived. For the best version of myself. Of how I can be of service. What I can bring. How I can earn love.

When somewhere along the way, I have lost sight of who I am. While focused so tightly on this perfection, I became blind to a part of who I am. How I have forgotten the journey is in the process. The finding on the way to the destination. The essence of being human in the mistakes. The growth from the mishaps.

It is not the perfection that I seek. It is the messy explorations, the findings, the excavations, the introductions of different pieces of me I have forgotten to take the time to see. To meet. To hear.

Those tiny voices that can roar so loud if given the chance. The right environment. The muted parts that can echo through the distance.

It is on my way that I continue to rediscover myself. That is the true relationship I want to find. That is where I need to be held. How I need to show up and forgive myself for it taking so fucking long to be there for myself in a way only I can. No one else is capable. No one else has access. No one else will if I don’t first see and expose myself to me.

It is not what I bring, it is not how I am of service, if I first do not show up for myself. If I first don’t take the time to hear what I need. To not take a look at what I see. What I feel. How deeply I might feel it.

I think about how much, and how many years I have felt alone at times. When in reality, I never have been. I only forgot to look. It is in those times I have abandoned a part of myself. I have neglected to see what I really, truly need.

Which in me. My own compassion. An empathy felt for myself. An image I had unused. Or neglected to see.

In this doing, or unraveling, I have gotten tired. I have grown weary of feeling a pressure to prove my worth. I am exhausted of feeling a need to be more than I am. I can see the angel that is lit inside me. She lies in who I am in this very moment. She exists in who I am to myself. Her wings expand as I feed her and notice her inner being. As I alone see her beauty in her imperfections, in her journey, in her discovery. As I alone feel the warmth of her glow.

She is in the process. Where we see, hear, feel, notice each other in the right here, right now. In the messy truth. In the confusing present. In the unknown, unanswered, unplanned and not yet decided. In the only moment that exists. In the only way I, myself, can.

I am what I am, with plenty of ways to grow. I can see more clearly when I pause. I can hear when I listen. I am only alone when I chose to ignore myself.

When I grip the hand of the angel inside me, together we take flight. Not into perfection. But onto the journey of continuing to rediscover each other. Sometimes messy. Sometimes bumpy. Always true. Always enough.

It is only there, together, united, that I can be of service. That I have anything to bring to another. It is to myself that I must first serve. I must first hear. I must first notice. I must allow myself to be.

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