With grateful permission, I’m sharing yet another brilliant post from my Conscious Weddings E-Course forum. This will give you another taste of the insight and wisdom that often pass through the virtual doors of this very special forum via the words of the compassionate, supportive, wise women and men that are working their tails off to break through their relationship anxiety. This particular member is a bright beacon of light for many of the E-Course members, and I’m delighted to share her wisdom and poetry with my broader community.


I was journaling today about perfection and the resistance that arises when things don’t look like the mold I try to shape them into when a big ah-ha popped into view.

So often fear wants my marriage and life to look like a cookie-cutter. It doesn’t want life to not have shape and form. It wants it to look a certain way so there is certainty, control and, by extension, safety.

Sheryl talks so much about this, but after almost a year of marriage I’m really starting to visualize what this means for me.
We had dinner with some friends, two of which are about to get married, and their life seems to cast a haze of “perfection.” Whenever I hang out with them, I tend to leave feeling “without.” It’s a very grass is so much greener on their side of the fence. But I work very hard to call back my judgement when I’m around them because it can easily turn into a projection of what I have is not enough.

If you were to trace the outline of my life on top of theirs, they would look nothing alike (this is something that I used to think as a bad thing). I started to think of outlines, and more specifically molds. The mold I casted for myself early on in life focused on “perfection,” you know the kind we talk about so frequently here: our partners have to be as handsome as a movie star, smart like a Harvard graduate, smooth like a 50s crooner, as adventurous as a mountain climber and kind like a humanitarian. My mold included a very pretty house with lots of “things” – I had to have a very successful, well-paying job, there was even hint of a desire for fame. I, of course, would look beautiful every day (ha!), my appearance effortless and natural. We would have a few kids, nice cars and, of course, a dog. This mold is all about beauty and smooth edges, kind of like fondant on a wedding cake. Oh, the irony in the wedding industry. “Perfection!” the mold DEMANDS!

But my life is nothing like this mold, especially the effortlessly beautiful part. It’s not a movie. It’s not a fantasy. My life is not an Estee Lauder “Beautiful” perfume ad.

My life is full of shadow and light. It’s imperfect. My husband looks adorably handsome on most days and sometimes annoyingly grody on others. I sometimes look in the mirror and think, ‘Hey, I feel pretty’ while there are moments when I think others think I’m such a mess. Most of my clothes I find to be pretty adorable while sometimes I feel like I want to punch the creative designer of J.Crew in the face for showing off how much of what my wardrobe lacks. I struggle with getting to the gym and not eating white bread but I also applaud myself for loving broccoli and brussels sprouts.

My point with these examples is that when I am connected to the natural flow of my life, the organic nature of it and not what mold I should “bake myself into,” I am okay with the perfect imperfections. Who I have picked as a partner and where I am headed in my life is beautiful exactly as it is. And what is even more beautiful is that I am working towards the conciousness of accepting and letting of the mold.

When you are questioning, “Am I making the right decision? Is he enough? Does my life measure up?” pause and breathe into the question. From what mold am I asking these questions? I think this is in the same vein of what Sheryl talks about when we have to let go of the fantasy, the dream of what we thought our weddings and marriages would look like.

For me, it’s about letting go of perfection and embracing the organic nature of what is.

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