The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are

by Brené Brown

The unraveling is a time when you are challenged by the universe to let go of who you think you are supposed to be and to embrace who you are.

The heart of compassion is really acceptance. The better we are at accepting ourselves and others, the more compassionate we become. Well, it’s difficult to accept people when they are hurting us or taking advantage of us or walking all over us. This research has taught me that if we really want to practice compassion, we have to start by setting boundaries and holding people accountable for their behavior.

It’s also impossible to practice compassion from a place of resentment. If we’re going to practice acceptance and compassion, we need boundaries and accountability.

I understand how I derived self-worth from never needing help and always offering it.

When we spend a lifetime trying to distance ourselves from the parts of our lives that don’t fit with who we think we’re supposed to be, we stand outside of our story and hustle for our worthiness by constantly performing, perfecting, pleasing, and proving.

Here’s what is truly at the heart of Wholeheartedness: Worthy now. Not if. Not when. We are worthy of love and belonging now. Right this minute. As is.

If we want to live and love with our whole hearts, and if we want to engage with the world from a place of worthiness, we have to talk about the things that get in the way—especially shame, fear, and vulnerability.

Because we don’t talk about the things that get in the way of doing what we know is best for us, our children, our families, our organizations, and our communities.

but there are days when most of my anxiety grows out of the expectations I put on myself.

Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.1

This is why shame loves perfectionists—it’s so easy to keep us quiet.

We feel exhausted because without even giving it too much thought, most of us know that choosing authenticity in a culture that dictates everything from how much we’re supposed to weigh to what our houses are supposed to look like is a huge undertaking.

Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are. Choosing authenticity means cultivating the courage to be imperfect, to set boundaries, and to allow ourselves to be vulnerable; exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are all made of strength and struggle; and nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we believe that we are enough. Authenticity demands Wholehearted living and loving—even when it’s hard, even when we’re wrestling with the shame and fear of not being good enough, and especially when the joy is so intense that we’re afraid to let ourselves feel it. Mindfully practicing authenticity during our most soul-searching struggles is how we invite grace, joy, and gratitude into our lives.

“What if I think I’m enough, but others don’t?”

Sometimes choosing being real over being liked is all about playing it unsafe.

But I believe there’s even more risk in hiding yourself and your gifts from the world. Our unexpressed ideas, opinions, and contributions don’t just go away. They are likely to fester and eat away at our worthiness.

If the goal is authenticity and they don’t like me, I’m okay. If the goal is being liked and they don’t like me, I’m in trouble.

men and women who self-report as hopeful put considerable value on persistence and hard work.

Tolerance for disappointment, determination, and a belief in self are the heart of hope.

Trying to avoid media messages is like holding your breath to avoid air pollution—it’s not going to happen.

Who benefits by my seeing these images and feeling bad about myself? Hint: This is ALWAYS about money and/or control.

Once we start to see the big picture, we are better able to reality-check our shame triggers and the messages and expectations that we’re never good enough.

Joy is as thorny and sharp as any of the dark emotions. To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees—these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain. When we lose our tolerance for discomfort, we lose joy.

every person I interviewed who described living a joyful life or who described themselves as joyful, actively practiced gratitude and attributed their joyfulness to their gratitude practice.

gratitude without practice may be a little like faith without works—it’s not alive.

They say its opposite is not sadness, but fear.”1

Until we can tolerate vulnerability and transform it into gratitude, intense feelings of love will often bring up the fear of loss.

Sufficiency isn’t an amount at all. It is an experience, a context we generate, a declaration, a knowing that there is enough, and that we are enough.

“Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.”

“I’m feeling vulnerable. That’s okay. I’m so grateful for ____________.”

Unused creativity doesn’t just disappear. It lives within us until it’s expressed, neglected to death, or suffocated by resentment and fear.

If we want to make meaning, we need to make art. Cook, write, draw, doodle, paint, scrapbook, take pictures, collage, knit, rebuild an engine, sculpt, dance, decorate, act, sing—it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re creating, we’re cultivating meaning.

Writer William Plomer described creativity as “the power to connect the seemingly unconnected.”

Creativity, which is the expression of our originality, helps us stay mindful that what we bring to the world is completely original and cannot be compared.

Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul.1

In today’s culture—where our self-worth is tied to our net worth, and we base our worthiness on our level of productivity—spending time doing purposeless activities is rare.

Brown argues that play is not an option. In fact he writes, “The opposite of play is not work—the opposite of play is depression.”

What if we’re normal and quiet and happy? Does that count?

“ingredients for joy and meaning” list.

It’s also extremely effective to identify the emotions that are the most likely to spark your reactivity and then practice non-reactive responses.

respond

In our increasingly complicated and anxious world, we need more time to do less and be less. When we first start cultivating calm and stillness in our lives, it can be difficult, especially when we realize how stress and anxiety define so much of our daily lives.

Overfunctioners, like me, can become more willing to embrace our vulnerabilities in the face of anxiety,

Squandering our gifts brings distress to our lives. As it turns out, it’s not merely benign or “too bad” if we don’t use the gifts that we’ve been given; we pay for it with our emotional and physical well-being. When we don’t use our talents to cultivate meaningful work, we struggle. We feel disconnected and weighed down by feelings of emptiness, frustration, resentment, shame, disappointment, fear, and even grief.

Gremlins are like toddlers. If you ignore them, they get louder. It’s usually best to just acknowledge the messages. Write them down. I know it seems counterintuitive, but writing them down and owning the gremlins’ messages doesn’t give the messages more power; it gives us more power.

Overcoming self-doubt is all about believing we’re enough and letting go of what the world says we’re supposed to be and supposed to call ourselves.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

Gladwell proposes that there are three criteria for meaningful work—complexity, autonomy, and a relationship between effort and reward—and that these can often be found in creative work.

What’s your ideal slash? What do you want to be when you grow up? What brings meaning to you?

True laughter is not the use of humor as self-deprecation or deflection; it’s not the kind of painful laughter we sometimes hide behind. Knowing laughter embodies the relief and connection we experience when we realize the power of sharing our stories—we’re not laughing at each other but with each other.