Prefer to watch instead of read?
You can watch this week’s reflection as a video. Scroll to the bottom of the page to view on YouTube.
I noticed something in the final stretch of finishing my manuscript. The book was probably done weeks ago. Beta readers had responded with encouragement, and their feedback helped me make it stronger. I incorporated what fit. I tightened what needed tightening. I felt good about what I’d written.
And still, I wasn’t ready to let it go.
I kept coming back for one last pass. One more read. One more sweep for errors. One more moment of staring at a paragraph and thinking, I bet I missed something. Or, can I say this better? Can I make it land a little cleaner? I told myself it was responsibility. High standards. Care.
At some point it became a running joke in our house. Every time I said, “There. It’s finished,” my wife gave me the same look. Yeah, right.
But if I’m honest, it felt less like care and more like protection.
In the past, I learned how to be seen as someone who had it together. That image wasn’t just about professionalism. It was safety. If I looked composed, I felt less exposed. If I sounded certain, I felt less afraid. Without even realizing it, I learned to manage how I appeared so I could manage how I felt.
This manuscript gives me less to hide behind. No role to step into. It’s just me, telling the story as plainly as I can. Not trying to impress anyone. Just trying to be honest.
And honesty is vulnerable.
The urge to keep editing wasn’t really about catching a typo. It was the old hope that if I could make it just right, I could control the outcome. Guarantee the response. Avoid disappointment, judgment, or misunderstanding. In other words, protect the image.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot an image that’s been with me for the past few years, and the one I have tattooed on my arm. The Enso. An imperfect circle. Open on purpose. A reminder that wholeness isn’t found in perfection. It’s found in presence. That’s recovery for me too. Not a closed circle. Not a finished story. An open one.
So I’m practicing something simple, and maybe you can try it too.
When you feel the urge to go back and fix something, pause. Take one slow breath. Then name what you’re protecting. Safety. Control. Approval. Image. Just naming it helps.
Then let the thing stand. Send the email. Submit the draft. Post the honest version. Not perfectly. Just truthfully.
And instead of doing another pass, do one small thing that brings you back to today. Take a short walk. Drink water. Step outside. Sit quietly for a minute. Remind yourself you can be seen and still be okay.
If you’re in a season where you keep going back to “fix” something, ask gently: is this care, or is it fear? Are you improving the work, or polishing your image?
And if it is fear, that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It just means you’re human. It means something in you still wants to be safe.
What would it feel like to let the thing stand, imperfect and honest, and still belong?
