Acknowledging the Flawed to Discover the Beautiful

Appa once said to me,

“Act like you are the most disgusting, horrible person on this Earth and are here for redemption.”

At first, those words struck me as harsh — almost unsettling. Why would I think of myself that way? But over time, I began to understand the depth behind them.

It wasn’t about hate or criticism. It was about love and acceptance.

It was an invitation to stop pretending — to stop polishing myself for acceptance, to stop chasing perfection as if my worth depended on it.

For most of my life, I believed that being “good” meant being flawless — that if I was kind, capable, and composed all the time, I would be loved and respected. I tried hard to live up to that image. I wanted to be the person everyone could look up to — the one who always had it together.

But in that effort to be perfect, I became disconnected from myself.

Because perfection is not wholeness.

Wholeness comes when you accept every part — even the ones you wish weren’t there. So I stopped trying to be perfect. I stopped trying to show that I was perfect.

Instead, I began to acknowledge my flaws — my fears, my insecurities, my judgments, my selfishness — all of it. And strangely, instead of feeling smaller, I felt more complete.

Now, when I do something good, I pause and ask myself: Where is this coming from?

If the source is my need to be accepted, admired, or loved — I stop. Because then my action isn’t pure; it’s performance. But if it’s a genuine expression — something that flows naturally, without seeking validation — I allow it. That’s when goodness feels real.

I’ve learned that acknowledging the flawed parts of ourselves doesn’t make us worse; it makes us authentic. It creates room for compassion — for ourselves and for others.

When I see my flaws clearly, I stop judging others for theirs. I understand how deeply human we all are — trying, failing, learning, beginning again. I start to see that every flaw carries the potential for grace. Every imperfection shows me a place where love can grow — not by fixing, but by accepting.

Acknowledging the flaws in you helps you discover ways of becoming more beautiful. Not the surface kind of beauty that comes from being good or impressive, but the quiet kind — the one that shines through honesty, humility, and presence.

Now, when I think of redemption, I don’t see it as becoming pure. I see it as becoming whole.

And maybe that’s what this journey is really about — not proving our goodness, but embracing our humanness.