Every morning, I painted myself into perfection. Orange concealer for my dark under-eyes. Blush to fake liveliness in my lifeless morning face. And gloss to conceal my cracked lips. It wasn’t makeup, it was armor. My exterior, perfectly glazed in layers, buried the shards of my everyday hurt and embarrassment. And if my day didn’t go as I’d envisioned, it would shatter the flawless illusion of myself I’d hoped to create. My craving for a perfect day robbed me of finding joy within mishaps and imperfections.
I used to think strength meant perfection: being on top of everything and always having a plan. But I’ve begun to realize that strength is actually being able to say, “I don’t know exactly what comes next, but I trust I’ll figure it out.” Giving ourselves grace teaches us that being human is much more satisfying than being perfect.
I began to practice grace by accepting that I received a bad grade on my test and learning from it instead of wallowing in despair. I was kind to myself by laughing it off after stuttering through a presentation. And I took a risk by participating in an English discussion even when I didn’t have a fully formed thought.
Grace is telling myself it’s okay if my “perfect” schedule goes off course because better opportunities will come my way. It’s focusing on what I can control, like changing my attitude and response when stumbling upon unfavorable outcomes. It’s enjoying and finding fulfillment through progress rather than the perfect end result.
My track coach often says, “Hannah always has a smile on her face when she runs.” It doesn’t matter if it’s the dreaded “lactic day,” and I have to run against the relentless and forceful wind. Or if I’m running in a heat full of sprinters who are faster than me and there’s pressure to finish in the top three. When my legs are on fire and every millisecond matters, when the cold wind is grazing my face, when my five-month season of training is about to be summed up in the few seconds of my last race. Even then, I’m still smiling. I smile because I enjoy seeing the lush, orange sunset while my legs feel like they are going to fall off. I’m able to laugh after I forget how to block-start when the gun goes off during a race. I decorate my track spikes in a pretty, hot pink thread when they rip the day before a big meet.
That’s what I want to take with me to college on mornings when I’m sitting in front of my dorm mirror looking at my reflection. Grace for the days that don’t go as planned, for the embarrassing mistakes I replay in my head at night, for the awkward, imperfect moments that make up my life. And joy, without having to wait for things to be easy or perfect to feel it.
I’ll forgive my past self. Laugh it off when things get awkward. Smile when I’m hurting, not to hide my pain from others but to reclaim the moment. Practice giving myself grace every day, in the most bewildering moments and in the getting back up again.
I don’t need my day to go perfectly or to paint myself with heavy layers of armor every morning to embrace myself. Small moments when I can give myself grace are enough to fill my cup and empower me to face the next challenge.