Embracing Imperfection: Lessons from the Past Year
As the calendar flips to a new year, many of us instinctively look back, replaying the highs and lows of the past twelve months. We celebrate our wins, analyze our losses, and sometimes get caught in wishing we could rewrite certain moments. For me, the year gone by wasn’t a seamless parade of victories—it was a mosaic of lessons, many learned through stumbles and imperfections.
Growing up as part of a minority group, I often wrestled with anxieties about belonging and acceptance. Society’s unyielding portrayal of the "ideal" human—wrapped in flawless achievement and effortless charm—felt unattainable. Add to that the generational echoes of being “good enough,” shaped by cultural expectations and criticism, and it’s easy to see how perfectionism became a heavy, inherited weight.
One moment in particular still lingers in my memory. While visiting South Korea, I was asked to read a script in front of my extended family to honor my late grandfather’s artwork and legacy. It should have been straightforward—I know how to read, after all—but standing there under the weight of their gaze, I froze. My voice wavered, words stumbled out of order, and sweat beaded on my forehead as my heart thundered in my chest. My family has always placed great value on composure and competence, and I felt I’d failed spectacularly. Afterward, I sat quietly, mortified, replaying the moment in my mind. But then, my father placed a firm yet gentle hand on my back, smiled warmly, and gave me a wink. He didn’t say a word, but that gesture spoke volumes: It was okay to be imperfect. I was still worthy of love and respect, just as I was.
This simple act of grace stayed with me, reminding me that our humanity isn’t defined by flawless performance but by the courage to show up—even when we falter.
I encountered a similar lesson last summer during a creative project with colleagues. We decided to try pottery, aiming to craft symmetrical vases. My efforts, however, resulted in a squat, bulky creation—hardly recognizable as a vase. My first instinct was to toss it and start over, embarrassed by its lack of vase-likeness. But something made me keep it, fire it, and glaze it anyway. When I showed it to a friend later, they exclaimed, “This would make an amazing pen holder!” Today, that “vase” sits proudly on my desk, holding my favorite pens and reminding me that beauty often lies in the unexpected.
As I reflect on the year, I realize that my most meaningful moments didn’t come from perfection. They arose in the messy, unpolished corners of life. Like the time I accidentally turned an entire load of laundry pink by washing a red towel with my whites—only to discover that pink shirts suited me surprisingly well. Or the countless times I canceled plans from sheer exhaustion, learning to listen to my body’s need for rest. These moments weren’t glamorous, but they were real—and they taught me to embrace vulnerability.
Heading into this new year, I’m challenging myself to lean into imperfection. To accept that things won’t always go as planned, that I’ll drop the ball or take a wrong turn. And that’s okay. Instead of chasing an elusive ideal, I’m choosing to show up fully—flaws and all.
For anyone reading this, I invite you to reflect on your own year through the same lens. When did imperfection lead to unexpected blessings? When did a mistake unlock growth or a deeper connection? Let’s celebrate those messy, authentic moments that shaped us into who we are today.
Because in the end, life isn’t a perfectly curated highlight reel. It’s a raw, imperfect, and breathtakingly real journey—and that’s where its magic lies.
