IMG_2419Just the other day, a good friend of mine, while scrolling through Facebook, mentioned, with both admiration and maybe a subtle hint of defeat, another friend of mine, who is my friend unbeknownst to her.

She spoke of this friend, my other friend, and how perfect her life seemed. How much energy she has. How big her smile is. How beautiful she is. You know, which really didn’t surprise me because in every picture of this other woman, my other friend, she is smiling. She is the graceful image of beauty. Of perfection.

Every post was positive and inspirational. It seemed, from the unknown eye, that this woman has the world by the balls. But you know what? She doesn’t. She’s got a good grip, like the rest of us, but I know her struggles, because I have sat with her while she’s cried over a failing relationship. She told me with spite in her eyes about “the other woman,” her fiancée was seeing behind her back. She told me, whilst biting her bottom lip, to I assume, stop the tears from streaming, how she’s been trying, for years, to get pregnant.

A simple scroll through Facebook and we see what looks like perfection. But in truth, none of us are perfect. Look at Brad Pitt. The man has had two failed marriages, both which seemed like the perfection of romance at the outset. And we are all guilty of doing this.

We all put a brave smile on for the world around us. And often we cry behind the closed door of our bathroom. We suck it up, or at least we try. And that’s commendable. Good on us. It’s what’s socially acceptable. And if you’re proud of a huge accomplishment, that’s great, but if your job is also kick ass, if your partner is the greatest, if your children are the image of perfection then that’s awesome. But guess what? I don’t fucking believe you. Not for one second.

Life is all about the imperfection, as far as I’m concerned, it’s that subtle touch of being imperfect that allows others to relate to us. Imperfection is like a silent ghost in the room that no one wants to point to. And get this? Being imperfect is essentially perfect. It’s perfectly okay. Because all the rest of us are perfectly imperfect too.

So, the next time you feel like you’re comparing yourself to another person who you only know from Facebook, remember that Facebook is a tool that a lot of us use to build ourselves up. We use it to, often, illicit support. An engagement, a new baby, a new job, whatever.

And it’s awesome that you’ve got a new job. Yay for you! You go glen coco! And I am happy to be able to support you through this medium. But I know that you have your struggles too. I know you’re not perfect. I know that you’re putting a brave face on, at least at times, for the rest of us.

I know you’re trying to spread kindness and positivity and not dwell on the negative. And I thank you for that. But I want you to know too, that you don’t need to appear to be perfect all the time. If things are getting you down. Just know, things have gotten me down too.


8 thoughts on “An Open Letter to All My “Perfect” Friends

  1. Mandy, what a perceptive post! You shine the spotlight on what, I suppose, we all suspect when we see or hear of another’s unsweating successes. Over a lifetime one can gain quite a facility at masking what’s going on inside. But you, so courageously, jam out that lower lip and screech, “I don’t fucking believe you. Not for one second.”


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