Chocolachillie

There is nothing that depletes joy as quickly as the misconception that perfection exists.

As a child I envied my friends their sense of security. Perceptive from the start, I knew that I was different. And I thought that the difference was that they were happy and I was not. I was right, incidentally. But what I didn’t realize was that happiness is a choice.

This became a pattern throughout my life. I would rush through life towards the next thing that I thought would make me happy. Work, marriage, parenthood.

My love for Marco was tainted with always falling short of my own expectations as a mother. Loren would be my chance to get things perfect.

And then Loren wasn’t perfect, despite/ because of my best efforts.

The hardest learning curve of my life, started.

I’m not quite sure when the turning point came. But one day I realized that life isn’t perfect. Never. Imperfection is normal. And that wishing for an unattainable ideal was robbing me of the moment:

Being loved for being Mama. Not for being perfect.