I am by nature enthusiastic, and prone to bouts of intensity.
Some may say I am careless, easily swept away, self-absorbed….
My mother describes me as a free spirit, and some day I’ll have to ask her what exactly she means by that – but I think it’s a good thing.
I am a perfectionist at imperfection. I love flaws and chinks in the armour. Speckled eggs. Wild hair. Scuffed shoes that have been repolished but are not quite even. Boys with their shirts unevenly tucked. Bad behaviour that slips out and shows one at ones most vulnerable and honest. Home-made pizza that is uneven and rustic. Paintings that are so obviously of their maker that their soul has helped to make the marks and breathes somewhere in between the brushstrokes.
There is an art to letting oneself be so vulnerable. It can be painful, and there can be rejection on so many fronts, but as I get older I’m learning to go with this and relax in myself. We are all who we are, and age just makes us more ourselves.
I like me exactly as I am and don’t feel the need to be anyone else any more. I hope you like you too.