The Rise of Imperfecto Patronus

I am turning 25 in 2 weeks.If you had met me just few months before,you would have known how freaked out I get talking about marriages .The word that I have dreaded since forever.Marriage feels like a fullstop or a comma.And I am not ready to add any kind of punctuation in my life.

But isnt sometimes life a series of semicolons?

I saw marriage as a ticking time bomb when bursted,you lose yourself.You,like a caterpillar :a childish,moody,wayward,free woman turn to this "supposed to be beautiful" butterfly:always smiling,pleasing woman who radiates sunshine from her ass,without any break.Just perfect!

My fear about marriage wasnt about fear of commitment.I have an "anxious attachment style".I came across this concept just few months ago when I was randomly surfing the internet trying to answer questions that no one would ever answer for me.Analysing and repeating the scenarios in my head.In total ,I was crippling into a mess.

I was coaxing myself from inside to just be perfect.Was annoyed with my feeling of  helplessness which clearly didnt align with the ideal portrait I had always painted for myself. Everyday,I slipped myself into the rigid boundaries that I had set:to be strong.Focussed.Compartmentalize.

And ,every night I broke down to wake up again and feel the rushing pain in the morning.

Then,one day,I realised the irony of the situation. I was already suffering the trauma that I related marriage with-the need to be perfect.

I was pressurizing myself to become a person I always aspired to become but not cutting any slack.I realised how important it is to make mistakes fearlessly .It takes huge confidence to expose your imperfections through those mistakes and still be comfortable.Ofcourse,you would want to grow and develop but that should never be out of any fear.I had the fear of abandonment.It became so important for me to make someone else believe that I was growing rather than feeling it myself that I turned into a dependent creature just asking for validation.Trying to reach the ever impossible benchmark for perfection and failing,always so miserably. 

At those times,if you had told me about any surgery that can make you just not think,I would have gladly went for it.But now,even though I am still not perfect,I am enough.Good enough to be loved,cared and happy.Not guilty about anything,coz I know I tried my best.My imperfections would always be a part of me.They are mine to accept and tame.They make me human.Accepting them helps me understand others.And I am not afraid anymore as long as I have myself- always my own cheerleader.