Take a few minutes and go read this blog post.  Take longer and read the nearly thousand replies to it.  If you come back, great.  If not, reading the post is more important.  Go do it.  This post will be here whenever you decide to come back.  No rush.

Do you see anyone you know there?  Do you see yourself?  If you didn’t think you saw anyone you knew, I will say you did but didn’t realize it.

Be real.  Two simple words.  So hard to execute.

Sometimes, we believe we’re being real, but we’re not helping the problem.  Because, giving honest feedback meant to be encouraging will sometimes be part of the problem.  I have an example.  This example is not backed up by any substantiated facts but by gut feel.

Three years ago this month, as I stated on my Facebook post about this subject, I lost a co-worker and a new friend to this insidious disease.  This man was bright, smart, and a wonderful teammate.  He had a wife and two young daughters he was crazy about.  I’d been working with him for three months, helping him learn his new job (I’d been filling in during a gap in people, and I was the continuity).  He was doing wonderfully, and we all told him so, but he didn’t seem to believe it.  He seemed to feel he was failing (nothing was further from the truth).

I came back from a leave to go home to Texas and spend time with my husband, and he was gone.  Disappeared on his way to work one morning.  Left the house but never showed up for work.  Told his wife he was going to work and told work he was staying home to help his sick wife with the kids.  A week later — exactly three years ago today, they found his body.

I’d only known him for three months, but I was angry.  How could this happen?  A man with so much promise, kids he loved, a career on track to, frankly, be much more successful than mine.  He had it made.

I couldn’t understand what happened.  Today, I read the article referenced at the top of this post.  And I understood a little better.  This quote made sense to me — for my friend and for a few other people I know:

“Perfection” is a man who everybody heralds as perfect, and inside he is screaming to be seen as the faulty human being that he always has been. Because to no longer be “the perfect one”, that would be freeing.

How many people have we forced into “perfection” by trying to be complimentary and supportive of what they do well?  I can’t begin to guess.  I also am at a complete loss for how to deal with that problem.  This “Like” post I’ve been seeing around Facebook lately addresses the problem, but only scratches the surface:  “The one who seems the strongest is sometimes the one who is in most need of a hug.”  I often wonder if the strong people I see posting it are, indeed, in need of a hug.  They probably are.  But I still don’t know how to acknowledge their need to be understood as flawed and still share what I find valuable about them.

I have a friend who is wonderfully “real.”  She’s open about problems she has.  I understand she has these problems.  I don’t see them, but I can accept that she does (because I sometimes look at myself and see “ick,” I can accept that others look at themselves and see “ick” too).  She has to live with them, and I know they are real.  I see the wonderful, talented, creative, loving wife, mother, and friend she is.  She sees icky.  I hope when we talk that I allow her to acknowledge the icky.  I hope she knows it’s ok.  I love her anyway.  And other people do, too.

How do we help our “perfect” friends understand we know they are flawed but we admire them anyway?  We value them for what they do right and love them even when we know they’re flawed.

Here’s another one:

“Perfection” is a woman who is so overwhelmed that she thinks about killing herself daily. “Perfection” makes it so that she never will because of the things people will think if she does. How could I make my suicide look like an accident? If I kill myself, I don’t want anybody knowing that I ever had any problems. She never stops to look at why she wants to do it, because healing means admitting imperfection.

That perfection keeps her from killing herself is sort of a good thing.  While there is life there’s hope.  Sadly, perfection keeps her from getting help which will bring relief from the pain making her so miserable.

Here’s one Single Dad Laughing doesn’t mention — maybe he hasn’t had it happen to him.  What about people who have done or are doing something truly horrifying?  Maybe you don’t think you have anyone in your family who has committed a murder or who might look at child pornography or who might derive sexual satisfaction from children or who has raped someone.   To my knowledge, I don’t have all those people in my family, but if I don’t, I know people who have at least one person who fits that bill to count among their loved ones.

How do you deal with that?  I’ve seen many posts on Facebook and groups that say “[Fill-in-the-blank horrible act perpetrators] should all die.”  Horrible as the act is, everyone who has committed that act has someone who counts that person as a loved one.  Horrible as the act is, everyone (I think) who has committed the act has some redeeming value as a human being — some have a whole lot.  Some, quite frankly, have never been outstanding members of the community and never will be.  The ones who have gotten caught have their secret out in the open.  They and their families have to deal with it.  Not only do they have to deal with the act that caused the problem, but they have to live with the fear that someone will exact their vengeance onto their family member.  Perhaps someone who does so in the name of some religious belief which claims to be non-violent. (I have lived in fear that someone would extract such a vengeance upon someone very dear to me.)

How many of the people considered to be pillars of the community committed these crimes to prove they weren’t worthy of the respect they were getting?  I have no idea.  I don’t even know if the theory that some people who are considered fine, outstanding people do terrible things from a subconscious desire to prove they weren’t really worthy after all has validity. But I wonder.  I wonder if they, at some level, are saying, “NO!  I’m really no good.  I’m icky inside.  Can’t you see it now?”  I’m not saying it’s ok.  I’m saying I wonder.  And calling for them all to die does not help their families — and maybe it doesn’t help them either (although, they may feel it’s a just punishment in some cases).

I’m asking age-old questions that don’t have complete answers.  We are told from an early age to strive for perfection. That’s a ploy to get us to do our best.  In the instance where it has become twisted to where it is detrimental, we have a problem.  How do we inspire our children, family, friends, employees, and others to do the best they can do while still acknowledging they are not perfect in all areas?

Most of us know there are areas where people do not excel — don’t even come close.  In general, I think we should try to find a way to capitalize on their strengths while minimizing their weaknesses.  If it’s a child, we (should) try to guide the child to doing what he or she does well while teaching them how to compensate for their weaknesses — acknowledge the weakness but help them see the way to be effective in the world.  What we should isn’t always what we do.

But again, what do we do when our encouragement only seems to make the problem worse?  I’m still stumped.  I think the natural tendency is to be more encouraging.  More supportive.  More laudatory.  Maybe even to the point where you become angry.  How many times have we said, “This person is just too needy.”  Maybe they’re not needy.  Maybe we haven’t allowed them to be flawed.  I’m not advocating telling them what dirtbags they are.  Somehow, I just don’t see that working (but in some cases, I’ve heard it does).

I also try to understand that sometimes it just hurts too much.  It’s not personal.  But it is.  In the world tonight, people are growing up not understanding that they didn’t do anything wrong.  Mommy or Daddy just hurt too much.  As much as Mommy or Daddy loved them, they hurt even more inside and just couldn’t take it anymore.  But the people left behind find that hard to understand when they are adults.  How can we expect a child to begin to fathom it?

Be real.  I’m not sure how.  It’s a lost art.  Society doesn’t teach it, and neither does anyone at home.  But I think it’s worth finding the path.