Enough

You’re not perfect. Not even close. You’ve let people down. You’ve said the wrong thing when it mattered most, or worse, stayed silent when your voice was needed. You’ve left tasks half-done, promises half-kept, and dreams half-chased. There are days you’re too tired to try, too distracted to care, or too stubborn to admit you’ve messed up. You’ve got your flaws—glaring ones, even—and you’re more aware of them than anyone else could ever be.

But perfection isn’t the goal. It never was.

Life isn’t about never tripping; it’s about learning how to get back up. It’s about apologizing when you’re wrong, even if it’s messy and late. It’s about showing up, even when you don’t feel like it, because showing up matters. It’s about the grey in your beard that marks years of learning, trying, and surviving. It’s about the little moments you’ve created that others carry with them, even if you don’t remember them.

Your imperfections make you relatable. They make you human. They teach your son that it’s okay not to get it all right every time—that what matters is effort, honesty, and growth. When he looks at you, he doesn’t see mistakes. He sees a person who’s trying, who’s there, who loves him enough to prepare a space for him in his own messy, fantastic way.

So, no, you’re not perfect. You’re better than that. You’re real. And in a world that so often pretends, that’s something to be proud of.