A love letter to my flawed, real self. Because flawless is exhausting, and freedom looks better on me
by Anandmai Kumar
A long-overdue breakup
Perfection and I go way back.
She was the invisible roommate, the unrelenting voice in my head, the imaginary gold star I kept chasing. She arrived quietly – through school report cards, magazine covers, social comparisons, and comments like ‘good girls don’t…’ or ‘you’re too much’.
She told me if I looked right, acted right, performed right, I’d be loved more, judged less, safe always.
So, I believed her. For years. Through school, career, relationships, and even in healing spaces. I showed up polished but disconnected. I built a life that looked perfect on the outside, but inside, I often felt hollow.
Living for applause, silencing myself
I wore my ‘perfection’ like a crown, but it felt more like a cage.
In my corporate life – from multinational giants to fast-paced startups – I ticked every box. Promotions, leadership roles, applause. But at what cost? I was burning out, smiling through pain, swallowing opinions, and giving more than I had.
And I didn’t stop. Not even when my body ached, or my soul whispered for rest. Because I had a family to support. And in my heart, I told myself: If not me, then who?
I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not when I was the strongest person in the room. Not when I was the ‘safe place’ for everyone else.
Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Maybe it wasn’t the right situation. Maybe … I just wasn’t ready to put myself first. So, I kept going. Burning myself silently, just to keep everyone warm.
Behind every ‘I’m fine’, was a woman pushing through physical exhaustion and emotional depletion – all because she didn’t want to ‘bother’ anyone. All because she believed that being the strong one meant being the silent one.
But the truth? That kind of self-sacrifice doesn’t make you strong. It makes you invisible – even to yourself.
Even in the world of healing and spirituality, I felt the pressure to be the ‘perfect healer’ – calm, serene, unshakeably wise. But I wasn’t. I had days when I doubted everything – including myself. And that felt like betrayal.
But now I know: There is no strength in silence if it costs you your sanity. There is no pride in perfection if it’s rooted in pain.
The moment I realised I was tired
It didn’t come with lightning. Just quiet exhaustion.
One day, standing in the serene hills I had once escaped to for clarity, I found myself staring at the sky and whispering, “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”
The silence of the mountains mirrored a silence I had ignored within me. A voice that simply said: “This isn’t working. You’re allowed to stop.”
That was my wake-up call. A moment not of breakdown, but breakthrough – where I stopped choosing appearance over alignment.
So, I did.
I stopped pretending I had it all together. I stopped smiling through things that hurt. I stopped hiding my rough edges behind perfect filters, perfect responses, perfect spiritual quotes.
I moved to nature. I chose slower days and deeper work. I listened – to myself, to the land, to silence.
And with every act of rebellion – a boundary set, a ‘no’ spoken, a retreat planned not for profit but for healing – I felt something I hadn’t in years: relief. A quiet kind of joy that didn’t depend on applause.
The old patterns still echo
I remember one corporate meeting where I was applauded for solving a crisis overnight. I hadn’t eaten, barely slept, and spent the night glued to my screen. Everyone clapped. But I wanted to cry. Not from joy, but from the quiet realisation that I was being rewarded for abandoning myself.
Later, when I moved away from the noise – into the hills, into silence – I realised how addicted I had become to validation. I measured my worth by how busy I looked, how needed I was. Even nature had to teach me to slow down. The trees don’t rush to bloom. The rivers don’t force their flow. Why was I so afraid of stillness?
Healing is not a performance
There was a time I started a healing retreat, believing it would be a soulful, nourishing space. And it was – for others. But I had not yet learned how to include myself in the care. I was pouring from a cup that was almost empty. Even in spirituality, I was seeking perfection – the perfect practice, the perfect poise, the perfect emotional response.
When I broke down one night in silence, I realised that healing also meant deconstructing everything I thought I should be.
Now, I lead differently. I don’t speak from a place of ‘I know better’, but from ‘I know what broken feels like – and I walked through it’. That’s enough. That’s real.
The social mirror
Let’s talk about social media – that carefully curated world of quotes, filters, and performative self-love. I’ve posted smiles on days I felt empty. I’ve shared affirmations I hadn’t yet embodied. I’ve compared my life with strangers, forgetting that what’s real doesn’t always make it to the screen.
But now I choose honesty over aesthetics. I no longer need to be followed – I just want to be felt. If my truth can hold space for someone else’s – that’s a kind of success no algorithm can measure.
Choosing the real me
Today, I no longer chase polished. I chase peace.
I let myself cry when it hurts. I let myself wear the same cozy hoodie for days. I let myself say ‘I’m tired’, without guilt.
I let myself dream again – not in Pinterest boards or productivity charts – but in soil, in sound, in service.
Because I’ve learned that showing up real is so much more powerful than showing up perfect.
And the woman who shows up with truth in her eyes, softness in her spine, and joy in her imperfections? She’s finally free – not because she has it all figured out, but because she stopped pretending to.
To every woman reading this
You are allowed to drop the performance. You are allowed to not have a five-year plan, a clean kitchen, or a toned waist. You are allowed to be too loud, too soft, too unsure, too ambitious, too gentle – and still be whole.
Perfection is a game you don’t have to keep playing. Being real is your revolution.
So, go ahead. Break up with flawless. Fall madly in love with the version of you that feels like home.
And when the world tries to sell you masks again, whisper this truth back: “I’ve already chosen me.”
“Perfection lied to me. But my truth – in its mess, softness, and courage – finally set me free.”
…………….
Anandmai Kumar is the Founder of The Purple Lotus Foundation. A caring and passionate individual
dedicated to healing, she’s an internationally certified life coach, NLP practitioner, and expert in various
energy and scientific healing therapies, such as Tarot, Reiki and emotional freedom technique.