I Am Not Perfect, I Am Good

I lay out my offerings,

My time,

My energy,

My thoughts,

My heart.

They are enough.

They come from within me,

And I am plentiful.

My efforts are meaningful,

Regardless of their outcome.

Perfection is a weight.

It magnifies gravity,

Pushes and drags,

Ensnares and berates.

I pull it off,

Peel it away,

Set it down.

I do not have to give every drop of my soul to everything I touch for it to be worthy.

I do not have to allow myself only the last portion,

The smallest and most meager,

The scraped bit left from all the giving.

No one and nothing healthy for me requires every iota of my strength and then scrutinizes it in all or nothing judgment.

I trust myself.

I can believe my own experiences and navigate this world by the compass of my own heart with confidence.

I give myself permission to tend to my own needs.

I can eat before feeding,

Drink before watering,

Replenish my own soul before sharing it with others.

What I give is valuable because its source is my worthiness,

And I am good.

I am not perfect.

I am good.

I am good.