Botox

The kid conversation of the day:
S: "What does your mom do? Like, what is her job?"
Munchkin #8: "She does botox."
S: "Oh?"
Munchkin #8: "Yeah. She says that I am perfect just like I am, but not everyone is that way."

While not specifically about botox, this post is about imperfection. The procedure itself IS completely disgusting to me. I have no judgement for those who choose to undergo such treatment- I have heard many times of the self-confidence that people claim to have after cosmetic procedures. My problem is with the fact that such cosmetic surgeries and appointments are necessary to feel confident in oneself. But I digress- I will save the postulation about societal ideas of beauty for another post.

This is about is the pain that I felt for so long concerning my own imperfection, and the huge amount of energy I spent trying to cover it up, trying to "smooth out to wrinkles," attempting to "fill in the cracks."

Today I realized that the amazing amount of lies I told and secrets I kept were little more than emotional botox. I was injecting toxin into my life, my spirit- and it worked for a while. I looked good for a while, enough for everyone around me to believe the best. Meanwhile, I was desperately searching for cracks in the facade, signs that would show the person I really was.

It took a long time for me to realize the beauty of imperfection, the essential component it is in our lives, really. It is in my own weakness that I discover the strengths of others, and together we become whole.

And so in this new environment and unfamiliar culture, I must resist the ever present temptation to use emotional botox. It is a terribly easy procedure to undergo, but the recovery period is long and difficult. And with only a year, it is possible that full healing will never occur. I must commit now to embracing imperfection and being genuine in all of my difficulty, because I want experience life in the most real of ways.