I am perfectly flawed
Someone close to me who was also familiar with my conflict with the ex-wife while raising a daughter referred me to the TV show, This is Us. Right from the first episode, the show struck a chord with me. The series follows the lives of three siblings and tells of interwoven stories using flashbacks to build the richness of the characters and their lives. Over the seasons, many of us can identify with facets of each character as the show delves into their struggles and demons through oodles of parent/child interactions. Some episodes are really gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, sob-fests that will turn even the most stoic hardliners into sympathetic pushovers.
My daughter doesn’t care much for this show as the emotional content is still years beyond her understanding but when the show does come on TV once a week, she leaves me alone to watch it and teases by pushing a box of tissue closer to the couch. Besides the free therapy I get from the show, I have taken away some of life’s most important lessons as I stumble and fall, stand back up, put on a brave face not for the world to see, but for me to believe that what I am doing is important and meaningful to us.
Stand up for each other. There is enough content over the past 6 years that documents my wholly gratuitous struggle with the ex-wife. I don’t know why my post-marital relationship is even more acrimonious than the latter years of marriage but that is the hand I’ve been dealt. The fights are frivolous, but what we fight about isn’t: the very concept of my daughter’s choice. The last fight went all the way to the courts. On the last day of the last hearing, the judge said, “Sir, we may not know whether your daughter will become an Olympic swimmer or a world-famous cellist, but she should have the opportunity to find out for herself.” With his gavel, he ruled in favor of my daughter’s decisions to remain in those activities. My tears betrayed the elation I felt at the vindication.
I stumble my way through and do the best I can. I mostly succeed, but often fail. I make do. I can’t be perfect for anyone because I am not that for myself.
Forgiving takes time. I had once read that nobody does anything wrong according to their own world views. Clearly, if I was the source of her discontent during marriage, divorce would have resolved that. But it hasn’t. It may be a long time (or never) before I find out the reasons why my ex-wife hates me. But even if I know the answer, it doesn’t matter anyway, anymore. The person she hurts is our daughter. As much as her actions are constant irritants, they have nothing to do with me. She has neither wronged nor injured me. But ironically, my ignoring her only fans those flames. She must think I am an indifferent, heartless S.O.B. But her ideas of me are a direct reflection of her emotion. I wonder if I should be impressed that I still hold sway in her mind. I was never responsible for her happiness; I also do not take accountability for her despair. Dissipating those emotions could take her years.
Nobody is perfect. I am the way I am because of all the mistakes I have made and my ability to substantively recover from them. Some may call it baggage. I think it’s just decades of trauma that have healed. As I take on different roles in life—son, brother, boyfriend, husband, father or whatever role I find myself in the future—I know that the perfection of one role is not required before I take on the next. I stumble my way through and do the best I can. I mostly succeed, but often fail. I make do. I can’t be perfect for anyone because I am not that for myself.
Many of my actions may be wrong. Many of my words may also be misspoken. But all my feelings are my truth. For better or for worse, my thoughts, words and actions broadcast to the world who I am. I alone decide that. I am whole, yet I seek complement. I am complete, yet I will always be a work in progress. I am happy, yet it is sadness that reminds me of the joy. The things that matter to me, I already have. What I don’t, I will learn to live without. I am me, a individual who is perfectly flawed. I’m okay with that. And if you’re not, then that’s your problem.
