A Life Well Lived

I think that perfectionism is a concept I'm trying to wrap my head around. Well, maybe not perfectionism, but imperfectionism. I'm not a perfectionist, but I set high high standards for myself. Some of which are probably not the most realistic expectations from someone suffering from


. Which would be all of us. Because imperfectionism is part of being human. I'm trying to remember that and be kinder to myself. Burning out is no fun.

A final thought. Lately I have been getting even more frustrated at the way I see humanity treating each other. I truly believe that my job here on earth isn't to judge people, it's to love them. I'm working on it—I may not have an issue with loving some of the demographics that are often societally oppressed, but I sure do have a hard time loving people who hate. It's hard to love people who are apathetic. It's hard to love people who don't care. It's hard to love people who hate. I think that hate can be louder—not more powerful than love, but louder. Hate can be screamed but love is best communicated over a lifetime. The best way to teach love is through a life well lived. And sometimes that can be quieter. It can take longer. But we can live our lives well. We have the choice to live our lives with love. And that's a way we can change things. We can change people. We can change everything.