What Is It(To Me) To Be Perfect?

What does it mean to be “perfect”? You might wonder. Well, to be honest with you, I am not really sure. I knew I was not perfect, and I did not know anyone who is. I mean, if they were, they would have definitely told me, right? Although I am not sure I would have believed them anyway. But you know what? It did not bother me that nobody was perfect. We all have our own flaws, even me. That is okay! My mum always told me that nobody needed to be perfect. She said it was not about making everyone happy all the time, but rather, it was about being considerate and avoiding hurting others, especially the feelings of our family. And you know what? I thought she was right! But what about us kids? What did perfection mean to us? Well, I used to believe that I had to follow every instruction from my parents and everyone else around me in order to keep everyone happy. It was so tough to do that all the time. It made me sad when I could not live up to those expectations. I would then try to distract myself and then try and try and try again. But then, one day, my mum told me something important. She said that nobody is perfect, including me. She told me that it was okay to try my best but not to worry if I did not always get things right. I did not have to be perfect. I did not have to make everyone happy or get perfect grades. It was okay to try my best, but it did not mean I had to get everything right all the time. Usually (and notice that I said “usually”, not all the time), when I felt like I could not do something, I would think about what my mum said. Despite my doubts, I would usually go ahead and give it a try anyway, and usually, (again, notice that I said “usually” because this technique is good but it does not always work) it worked! Well, not always (because sometimes, even techniques are not perfect), but it was still a helpful technique that I used a lot. But sometimes, I disobeyed instructions or felt unwilling to follow them. That would make my mum angry, and that brings me to the next point: I used to think that being perfect meant my mum would never get angry at me. But then (and I am starting to feel like my mum is not just my mum but also my personal morale booster), she explained something to me. She told me that it was kind of her duty to get angry sometimes. She only got angry when I did something bad or annoyed her or made the same mistake repeatedly (even though I never intended to do so, it just happened). But she never got angry at me for no reason or if I made a new mistake (because she also said that I would never learn anything new if I never made a mistake, so she never got angry at me when I made new mistakes). She said that that was just part of life, and she still needed to express her anger from time to time. I admitted that sometimes I just happened to provoke her, but she said it was fine. To her, raising kids was like a challenge — me and my brother were there to push her, to improve her, and she was there to push us and to improve us, too. I actually thought there was some sense in that. Well, almost everything my mom said made sense, except when she fell asleep while we were talking at night (hee-hee!). Oh, I almost forgot! Let’s talk about parents for a moment. You see, I sometimes have lots of secrets, lies, or cover-ups. But somehow, my mum always sees through them. It is like she has a secret power to detect when I am lying or hiding something. And most of the time, she manages to get the truth out of me. It is like magic! And you know what else? Many times, when I am doing something naughty, my mum secretly watches me. After I have done it too many times, she gives me a chance to confess. She never jumps straight to punishment, which is one of the reasons why I really like her. But the one thing that interests me the most is: how do parents always know? I mean, how do they always know when we are lying? How? How? How? It is like they have a built-in lie detector or something. How? Maybe I will ask my mum someday, or my dad. I am not really sure, but for now, it will just remain a mystery to me. But who knows? Maybe I will find the answer sooner or later... Now, why do I always cover up? Honestly, I am not completely sure. I think it might be because when my brother promised my mum that he would never lie or cover up anything, I still had lots of secrets that I was not comfortable sharing with many people. I had nobody to confide in. Having no one to tell, I got used to keeping secrets, telling lies, and covering things up. And once I got used to it, I started doing it more and more. Soon, almost everything in my life was built upon these secrets, like a tower made of brittle glass. Each piece was delicate and yet essential, as if it were saying, “Do not touch me, or I might break.” It was a warning, a reminder not to build any higher. But as life went on and more things happened, I felt forced to keep building the tower, going against the warning.

Revealing secrets is hard, especially when you know you will be with someone for a long time, like family members. It is very challenging to keep secrets from family members. I have struggled with this, and I am still learning. I know I have made mistakes by not telling the truth. It was so hard for me, and I still have my problems, I still cover up, and I am still learning. I have tried several times, but there are many things I do not want to disclose openly. With nobody trustworthy to share my secrets with, I keep them to myself, hoping nobody tries to make me reveal them. Fortunately, not many have tried. I try my best not to keep secrets that I am not supposed to, but it is not easy. Nothing in life is easy; it takes effort. But I keep trying, even if I’m not always successful. I tried, I tried again, and I am still trying. By the way, when I said “not trustworthy”, I did not mean that I do not trust my mom. No, no, no, that is not what I meant at all. What I meant is, for those who remember their own childhood, were there ever times when you had secrets you did not want your parents to know? It is kind of like that, but for me, some of the secrets are bigger than just little things here and there. They are the kind of secrets I cannot share with my friends, and even if I tell my brother, I cannot be sure he will not tell our parents, no matter what the secret is. How did I feel, being forced to continue building that tower of lies? Well, to be honest with you, I did not like it at all. It felt like I was constantly upgrading and reinforcing it, like something bad would come and crack the base, and then another crack, until the whole tower would come crashing down, leaving behind a mess that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I could not let that happen. So, I was forced to continue my toil, in building the tower, even though I did not like it. It was tough, it felt like it was eating away at me. I would have occasional breaks, but they did not help much. I was always on the edge, almost breaking. I wanted to stop, to leave it all behind and start building a solid wall of truth.

I wanted to gain my family’s trust. But I could not do it just yet. My mum and my brother noticed my faults, and I knew I had to confess at least a part of it. So, I did. It was a bit relieving, and I was not as scared as before. But I still have to find a way to escape that tower, to build that wall of truth, and to stop lying. It is the only way. With love and a sprinkle of imperfection ~ Nicodidiary