I’ll be honest: sometimes when I scroll through other people’s blogs, I feel small. Their lives look polished, exciting, full of adventure and joy. And in comparison, mine can feel ordinary — messy, unglamorous, imperfect. It’s easy to believe everyone else is ahead in this whole “being an adult” thing, while I’m just fumbling along.
But here’s the truth I remind myself: most people only blog the highlight reel. The fun, the polished, the wins. Not the fights with spouses, the nights on the couch with Netflix, the laundry that sits for days. We show the best — not the mess. So if you’ve ever read my blog and thought I had it more together than you: please know, I don’t.
Here’s my reality:
House: Small kitchen, laundry baskets that linger, dishes that pile up. Our house was built by my great-grandparents, and while it needs updates we can’t yet afford, it’s full of history and love.
Dog: Not perfect. Kind of a jerk. He has to be babysat daily. But he’s mine, and I love him anyway.
Marriage: Not perfect. We argue. I get emotional. But I’d choose my husband again in a heartbeat.
Work: Not perfect. I want full-time but I’m still part-time, despite the degree. We work opposite shifts and barely overlap. But the time we do get together? We cherish it.
So yes — my life is imperfect. It’s messy, stressful, and ordinary. But it’s also real. And as Megan McCafferty once wrote in one of my favorite series, “we are perfect in our imperfection.”
That’s what I hold onto when comparison creeps in: the reminder that there’s beauty in the flawed, pride in the progress, and meaning in the ordinary.
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