Being There as My Imperfect Self

Our daily lives are filled with so many things we are constantly “doing.”

Working

Learning

Supporting someone

Participating in a group

Fulfilling a role

Trying to meet expectations

And sometimes, in the midst of all that doing, we come up against our own limits.

Am I doing this well enough?

Am I being helpful?

Do questions like these ever begin to quietly circle in your mind?

Over the past few days, I served as an assistant for an experiential group in a psychotherapy training.

The training was conducted in English.

Since Japanese is my first language, there is always a part of me that feels some tension when I am in an English-speaking space.

Am I understanding everything correctly?

Am I offering the right kind of support?

Am I getting in the way of the participants’ learning?

Am I missing someone’s feelings?

Am I unknowingly hurting someone?

Even if those questions were not always on the surface, I think I was carrying them somewhere in my body.

After the training ended, I felt more tired than I had expected.

It was not just because I had been busy.

It felt like a deeper kind of tiredness, as if I had touched the question:

“Was it okay for me to be there?”

Of course, there are things I cannot do.

I cannot understand every word of English perfectly.

Sometimes I cannot find words quickly enough.

Sometimes the right expression does not come to me in the moment.

Because of that, I know my own limitations very well.

And sometimes those limitations feel embarrassing. They make me anxious.

But this time, I noticed something a little unexpected.

Perhaps because I could not follow everything through language alone, I was trying to notice something else.

Facial expressions

Silence

Small movements of the body

Tone of voice

The atmosphere in the room

The moment when something subtly shifts

Because I could not always keep up with everything through words, perhaps my body was participating in another way, doing its best to be present.

And perhaps, within that imperfection, there was my sensitivity.

Because I could not do everything smoothly, I became more careful.

Because I did not always know, I looked more closely.

Because I could not immediately put everything into words, I listened more deeply to the person’s body and to the atmosphere around us.

That may have been something different from what I had thought of as weakness or inadequacy.

My imperfect self was able to be there, just as I was.

The part of me that did not understand everything was still trying to be with someone.

And within that self, there was something real.

Gentleness

Carefulness

The ability to sense through the body

The capacity to stay present

The wish to see people without judgment

I may not have called these things my “strengths” before.

Rather, I think I had been looking mostly at what I lacked.

But through my interactions with those I was learning with, my perspective shifted a little.

Perhaps the imperfection in me is not simply a flaw.

Perhaps within it, there was something precious and very much my own, something that allows me to connect with others as myself.

It is not because I can do something perfectly that I am allowed to be there.

It is not because I can prove that I was useful that I am allowed to exist.

There was a part of me that tried to stay there, even while carrying anxiety, embarrassment, and a sense of limitation.

I found myself wanting to gently embrace that part of me.

Being there as my imperfect self.

Relating to others as I am.

Noticing the strength that may lie beneath what I have thought of as my inadequacy.

It felt a little scary, a little embarrassing, and yet it became an experience that led me toward a very quiet sense of relief.

Perhaps, within your imperfection, something precious and uniquely your own may gently begin to appear.

Thank you, as always, for reading.