For those of us who are perfectionists, accepting an imperfect or really fucked up life is tantamount to failing.
It doesn’t have to be.
On my first day of a new job several years ago, my manager had all of us new hires take turns answering various questions with the purpose of helping us to get to know one another better.
One of the questions was, if your life was made into a movie, what genre would it be and which actor would play you? I remember wishing mine could be something fun like an adventure film or a romantic comedy. I knew, however, that the truest movie version would be a drama.
I also remember trying to think of actresses who could be me and only coming up with one.
I remember being disappointed with my answers back then. I’ve since come to realize that I’ve often felt disappointed about many aspects of my life for one reason or another, either because key people around me have shown that they’re disappointed in me, or because I’ve felt that there are too many ways in which I haven’t measured up to society’s accepted standards of success.
In making the imagined movie about my life, I’d expect there’d be a scenario like this:
Director: I want to let you know that we’ve made some changes to the script and it’s really good.
Me: What did you change?
Director: Just a few things, like we rewrote some of your childhood, left out some of your problematic family members and that one ex you had who was an abusive loser, and we gave you a different career.
Me: Those sound like big changes. I thought the point of this film was to portray my actual life as it’s been so far?
Director: I get it, yeah we’ve taken a few creative liberties, but audiences and critics will like this new version much better, and I think you will too once you read it. It’s still absolutely your story, only reworked. Keep an open mind when you read it, and if you hate it we can change it again.
Me: I guess I can read it and let you know.
Director: There’s one more thing.
Me: What?
Director: Unfortunately, our budget is really low and we can’t afford Cate Blanchett. But we think we can get (insert name of an actress who isn’t Cate Blanchett) instead.
Me: You were planning to cast Cate Blanchett as me? Why? We look nothing alike.
Director: We were thinking to change up your character, give her a character makeover. We thought it’d be good to make the film version of you prettier and more successful.
Me: Ouch.
My life has often disappointed the perfectionist part of me. I’ve worked to get to a place where I accept that it isn’t and won’t be perfect, but acknowledging the imperfections doesn’t mean I’m giving up on making it incrementally better as I go. It means I’ve given up on trying to reach unreachable standards and have stopped judging myself based on who other people want me to be.
Accepting the bad parts of my past isn’t me agreeing with everything that’s happened to me or all of the choices that earlier versions of me made. To me, acceptance means I don’t hold my past against myself and I don’t let the bad stuff convince me that it’s all I deserve. It means I’m letting go of the inclination to change what can’t be changed, while holding onto the good times and the lessons I’ve learned.
We can’t afford Cate Blanchett. Truth is, we never could. It’s difficult to make a big city film on a small town budget.
We won’t have exotic settings, fancy costumes, or CGI. The starring actress is a no name without much experience, but she’s committed to giving an honest and raw performance of her character, flaws and all.
I can’t tell you if critics and audiences will love this film or hate it. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be satisfied with how it turns out either, but I can tell you that come what may, this movie’s getting made.
And I can tell you that I’m going to give it everything I have.