Perfect blogger. Perfect man. Perfect boyfriend (NOTE: I wrote this before our break-up). Perfect father. Perfect friend. Perfect neighbor. Perfect you name it.
No, seriously. I have decided I am definitely perfect, and I like that I am perfect, and I am so thankful to be one of the only actually perfect people on earth.
I just threw up typing that. But, I had to type it. I really did.
You see, I want to be imperfect. I want to love myself even though I’m imperfect. And I want to accept myself even though I’m imperfect.
And, it hasn’t been working to simply be imperfect. It also hasn’t been working to constantly tell you how extremely imperfect I always am. There are still those who have this idea of perfection, they think I’m supposed to fit into that idea of perfection, and when I don’t, they do what they can to bully me there hard and fast.
So, instead of telling you how imperfect I am, I’ll do something nobody can stand and I’ll start out by telling you how perfect I actually am. Maybe then you’ll finally believe all the other times when I tell you I’m far from perfect.
One of the greatest ironies of this blog is how it launched into successville and how that spiraled into a whole lot of the very thing I was trying to escape from.
Single Dad Laughing first found it’s feet with the masses when I published The Disease Called “Perfection” nearly three years ago.
In that post, I asked you all… nay, I begged you all, to please put down this façade of perfection and start to bask in the glory of each other’s imperfections. It really was a post written out of desperation because I was trapped in it more than anyone, and the harder I tried to keep it together, the more my life fell apart. Perfection, it seemed, was the problem. It was the common denominator in everything. And I was done with it.
In that post I fed myself to the wolves. I threw myself under the bus. I teased the perfection gods, and I admitted a laundry list of my biggest secrets and life shames. Yes, I yanked some of the skeletons from my closet and displayed them proudly for the world to see in an attempt to no longer let the world define me by them.
And this is where the irony comes in.
That post led to a very large wave of people coming to follow this blog who also struggle with the disease the way I always have, and unfortunately there were many among them who were strong-mouthed, strong-minded, and strong-handed when it came to feedback on anything I did.
And, in no time at all, to keep them at bay, I had to pretend to be this perfect guy that I knew I wasn’t.
It put me right back to where I had been my entire life.
There I stayed for a long time. And it really made some other people on the internet hate me. I’m okay admitting that. I mean, how could it not? I didn’t come out and say it, but look at those first two paragraphs above. That’s what was constantly oozing out of me and I’d probably loathe someone who came across that way as well.
Anyway, I remained this all-too-deep, all-too-pensive, all-too-perfect blogger for more than a year. I look back at that time and this is what I remember.
Almost everything I did, was done in such a way to A) make everyone love me and B) keep anyone from getting offended. I didn’t mean to do that. I just did it. It’s the way the wind blew things. It was the formula that perfection made rise to the surface.
And guess what. The formula worked.
The formula worked because there are plenty of people out there who love people who are good at pretending they’re perfect. There are plenty of people who will subscribe to that kind of precocious and ardent extremism, and they’ll believe they’re being uplifted when they do.
And because there are plenty of those people, this blog readership started to grow. Single Dad Laughing got bigger. And bigger. And bigger. And bigger. Before long, we had about a hundred thousand subscribers round these parts.
And, I hated it. I hated what it became. I hated where it was going. And I hated how absolutely trapped I was in that damned perfection once more.
This isn’t to say that everyone following was caught up in it as much as I was. Many of you were around before it, during it, and after it. Many of you have been beyond awesome throughout. So no, it’s not to say that.
It’s simply to say that the great majority of my readership became the kind of people I really wouldn’t like hanging out with in real life, and I was so firmly pressed against a corner, I didn’t know what to do.
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