Sometimes life has a way of showing you what’s important. Life can get so bogged down by the constant noise and humdrum of redundancy. What truly matters, what truly makes us happy, can end up being pushed aside to aid in the idea that we have to be perfect.
Let me tell you a secret: perfection is a myth. Absolutely no one is perfect, no one has the perfect life, acts decently all of the time, or has it all together. Some people are great at making it seem that way. Honestly, I think that these people are the most unhappy of them all.
So then why do we chase perfection? Why do we make ourselves miserable trying to fit in? In our early years, it makes sense. Fit in so you have someone to sit with at lunch and to play with at recess. But in our 20s, 30s, 40s, and beyond, why is it such a big deal?
A Personal Story About Judgement
I’ll tell you a personal story to help put things into perspective when it comes to caring what others think. One night I went to bed, completely healthy, just tired as usual. I woke up feeling like I had to use the bathroom a few hours later. Then, I started throwing up. I got so hot and dizzy, I took off my clothes and went in the bath to try to cool down. That’s where my husband found me soon after, soaked in my vomit and excrement, barely able to respond.
Of course, he responded appropriately and called 911. The EMTs came and helped me out of the tub, got me dressed, carried me down the stairs, and took me to the hospital. They did their job both professionally and without judgment. But at the end of the night, when the doctor told me my diagnosis was food poisoning, the shame hit me like a ton of bricks.
This isn’t who I am. I am a strong, stubborn, independent, intelligent woman. I don’t call 911 for food poisoning, but that’s what just happened. How terribly shameful.
No.
If the EMTs weren’t judgemental, then why must I try to judge myself? Because I had an idealistic idea that I’m not “weak” and I don’t ever need help. Spoiler alert: we all need help sometimes and life has a funny way of showing us. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, it doesn’t mean that you’re less than, it means you are human.
The Lesson
That moment in the bathtub wasn’t my lowest—it was a turning point. It was one of those raw, real-life moments where everything stripped away: the expectations, the image, the pressure. I wasn’t a “perfect mom” or “perfect wife” or anything remotely put-together. I was a woman in need, and others showed up. No judgment. Just care.
That’s the truth about motherhood—and about being human. It’s not about always getting it right. It’s about showing up, again and again, in all your messy, beautiful imperfection. It’s about learning to extend the same grace to yourself that you so freely give to everyone else. Especially when things fall apart.
There will be days when you forget the permission slip, snap at your kid, order takeout for the third time that week, or cry in the shower because the weight of it all feels too heavy. Those aren’t failures. Those are part of the deal. Those are signs that you are living, loving, trying.
So let go of the myth. The perfect mom doesn’t exist—and thank God for that. Our children don’t need perfection. They need real. They need presence. They need us to show them what it looks like to fall down and get back up again with a little more humility, a little more laughter, and a whole lot more love.
Give yourself permission to be a work in progress. You’re doing better than you think.
Final Thoughts
Motherhood isn’t a performance—it’s a relationship. One that grows deeper not through flawless execution, but through presence, patience, and persistence. We’ve been sold the idea that to be a “good mom,” we have to do it all, look good doing it, and never ask for help. But the truth is, our kids don’t need perfect. They need us—fully human, imperfect, and full of love.
Let’s stop chasing the impossible and start embracing what’s real. Because the real moments—the messy, vulnerable, honest ones—are the ones that matter most.
You are enough. Just as you are. Every single day.
Your Turn
If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear your story. What moments reminded you that perfection isn’t the goal? Share in the comments or send me a message—let’s keep this conversation honest, vulnerable, and real. And if you know a mama who needs to hear this today, send it her way. We’re in this together.
