Letting go of my higher than high expectations,
Letting go of my quest for a perfect life.
Letting go of my fears and doubts.
Life will never be perfect, and I should be blessed by it’s many imperfections. It’s what makes it interesting and worthwhile, I will never be the perfect mother ( even if I still secretly wish to be ) or the perfect wife and I’m not a superwoman ( even though I pretend to be ). Often I wish my life was just like the ads you see on tv, the smiling mom who doesn’t care just one bit if her kid spills grape juice on her white pants. The singing while mopping the floors, the pure bliss of family life. It’s just not real, though my mind has trouble letting go of this reality it constructed all these years. Life is hectic, it has rainy days and thunderstorms. Life is messy, noisy, crazy. But perfect in it’s own way. It’s the way it was given to me, and it’s mine to cherish.
My life is not perfect, I don’t live in some kind of fairytale.
My photos are real, raw, imperfect. They’re not a witness of an imaginary life, they’re fragile, sensitive, and true. Just as I am.
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