I have to say, if there’s one thing I was thankful for this Canadian Thanksgiving it was getting A Little Thistle online & the support I’ve had from you guys since it launched! You know when you have an impossible project, and it finally (really) gets done? It’s a feeling you can’t beat. A definite yes moment in my books.

The week before the launch was an emotional roller coaster for me, especially having just been out of town and trying to catch up. You know those days when someone asking “Would you like to meet up for coffee?” can send you teetering over the brink into crying territory, because there’s no more room on your plate? And then you get flustered and angry at yourself for being so upset, because coffee is just coffee and not a life and death scenario? And then you just have to burst out laughing, because you obviously need to put in some work on how you manage stress?

It was one of those weeks. Alternately tearful and filled with laughter, full of late nights and stellar advice from girls who have been there. Topped off with cheeseburger style cupcakes (Oh, I know) and hugs from out of town friends I don’t get to hug nearly enough. It was brilliant in its own imperfect way, because often the best times in life aren’t neat and tidy- they’re downright messy!

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about perfection, not least of all because of this amazing protest against it that I found through one of my favourite blogs, Fat Mum Slim. I love the idea of declaring yourself in a protest against perfect, especially because in the past few years I’ve realized that in my life perfect is a synonym for paralyzed. When I want things to be perfect, nothing ever gets done because nothing is good enough- and what does get done? It’s no fun at all.

So here’s my contribution:
.

I have trouble holding back,
I’m hopelessly absent minded,
I’m too eager to please,
I’m stubborn and jump to conclusions.
I worry about things I can’t control,
I say “Things are busy” when I mean “I miss you”,
I say “I miss you” when I mean “I’m scared”,
I’m not good at sticking to my budget,
and I can’t finish a book before it’s due at the library.

And none of those things are going to stop me from loving me. Not even for a moment.

For me, imperfection is about giving myself permission to mess up in abundance and learn at every turn. It’s about being generous with my own imperfect self and the imperfect people around me. It’s about courage, humility, authenticity, and putting the judgment on hold to let grace step in.

I hope you’ll protest with me, I promise that you’re far too interesting a bundle of contradictions to ruin yourself by perfecting it all 

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