I'm sitting at my dining room table. It's superbowl Sunday. Outside, an emergency plumber is digging 4 feet down to the top of my septic tank. It's my birthday weekend. I've been breathing, focusing on solving the problem for the past 4 hours. I could get angry, but really, there is no point to that. My anger won't change the situation. So I breathe. I make phone calls. I learn about my septic tank.
At the table are two women who have become closer to me than my family. They both witnessed my less than positive expression this morning to my 10+ guests. I hit my limit. But they've both seen me at worse points. I met A. just after my mom died. S. I've known for years, but this past year we've really spent a lot of time together. Both know just how fucked up I am. They've seen me at my worst. And yet, they are sitting here at the table with me. Part of me inside feels unworthy of their love. As awesome of a person I am, I have my flaws - I am not remotely close to perfect. And somewhere inside me, there's this belief, that if I am not perfect, no one will love me.
This is far from the truth.
A decade ago, I had an acupuncturist who loved me. He told me it was my flaws that caused him to love me. I found this really hard to believe.
But it's the truth. It's in spite of the flaws that we love someone. We see they are human. We see their vulnerable core. And we love them anyway.
Sitting there at my dining room table, with my two friends, I was overtaken by a feeling of gratitude, having them in my life. To have their friendship, their love and support - despite the imperfect person I am.
I remember those I love. Friends. Past partners. Mr Dog. I don't love them any less because they are not perfect. Quite the opposite - I love them in spite of their flaws.
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