Chipped, Cracked, and Gloriously Imperfect
Are you familiar with the NPR
series called “This I Believe”? Each
Monday on “Morning Edition” and “All Things Considered” we hear a short essay
by a listener about a guiding belief or idea.
In the year or so since the series began, we NPR enthusiasts have heard
a wonderful array of personal convictions.
Well recently, while I was driving
home from the grocery store with bags of Gatorade and frozen popsicles for my
son who’d begun his Christmas vacation with stomach flu, I asked myself what I
would write about if I were so inclined, understanding that most of the
super-important convictions have already been covered. To my surprise—for I had expected to be
stumped-- an answer popped into my head immediately, and it was not at all what
I would have predicted.
It was the title of an essay: In Praise of Imperfection.
The next thing I realized is that
this is most definitely the choice of a military brat.
It’s taken 30 years of adulthood
for me to embrace the beauty of the chipped, the cracked, the smudged, the
not-quite-right. This is to say nothing
of Tasks not quite finished, Ambitions not yet realized, Personal Failings not
yet completely addressed. Thirty years, the
length of an entire career, is a long time.
But it does not strike me as an unreasonable length of time to undo the
programming of my youth.
The spoken directives were
uncompromising and unrelenting: Give 110 percent of yourself, 100 percent of
the time. Your ‘best’ is not
enough—go back and get it right. Of
course there are very good legacies from this, and I would not wish to overlook
or undervalue them. The inculcation of
high personal standards is one of the most valuable things a child can develop,
and I like to think it has been the guiding star of my professional life. It’s a kind of idealism that is at the core
of my political convictions as well: the
belief that all labor, when well and honestly done, has dignity and should be
respected. That was definitely part of
the warrior values that were implicit in the Fortress. Every single military kid ever born got a
good healthy dose of this, and to this
day I think it is one of the key values we carry and one that too often
contrasts with what we find in the civilian world.
But perfectionism-as-problem is
another creature entirely. It’s a very
dark thing. I tend to think that for us
brats it was more the unspoken instruction, the perceived expectations that had
the insidious effects—especially, it must be said, in the context of the
exacting environment of the Fortress itself:
every inch of it polished, trimmed, whitewashed, and aligned, with
perfect right angles, and inhabited by beings who were starched, pressed,
buttoned-up and spit-shined, every one of them.
You have to admit, that was different from the civilian world.
On top of that, for many military kids (though thankfully, not all) this was combined with a flesh-and-blood parent who was perpetually demanding, angry, and withholding of praise. That becomes a trap in which the child, desperate for parental approval, is made to live in a perpetual state of unworthiness.
In my book I quoted a clinical
psychologist and Air Force brat I called Sarah, who said that perfectionism was
one of the biggest problems she sees among her mostly female clientele, many of
whom were military brats. “Most of the
women I see are super conscientious and responsible,” she told me. “They have superegos that will not quit. If they make mistakes, they see themselves as
‘bad.’ The tendency for women
perfectionists is to focus on being the ‘perfect person.’” Or as one of my other interviewees put it,
it’s like living on a treadmill that never stops.
Sarah came to believe that the
military background contributes heavily to the development of
perfectionists. She said, “The rigid boundaries
of behavior [in the military] are so contradictory to the way life ought to
be. In the military things are divided
into right and wrong, good and evil, life and death; there is no middle ground.
That’s the message.”
But the middle ground is the most
interesting, enriching, and creative place to be. Endless perfection is boring. Endless unworthiness is a devastating dead
end. The middle ground is where you try,
and fail, and learn the gifts of failure.
It’s where you create, experiment, expand upon, modify. It’s where you can follow an idea or a
vision, where you can choose to live life out of balance for a while to learn
from the challenges it brings. It’s
where you allow yourself to choose.
I understand why the Fortress must
be a place of high and exacting standards, with penalties for
imperfection. It can’t be any other
way. But it is not healthy for those of
us who as children were socialized into that environment, to carry perfectionism
forward as the impossible goal, the endless refrain of self-reproach.
Consider the hidden hubris in
perfectionism: the idea that perfection
is possible. It is because of this that
the Amish (and the Shakers before them) deliberately weave an error into each
weaving, or sew a mistake into each quilt.
The imperfection is the human signature, an acknowledgment before the
world that we offer our best effort in an attitude of humility, embracing our fallibility. So when a
military brat castigates himself or herself for some imperfection, there is,
paradoxically, a kind of arrogance embedded in those self-condemnations. A healthy self love, it follows, involves
learning to shed that angry voice, to love our error-prone selves, to cherish the
insights won through failures and wrong choices.
I read a story in the New York
Times yesterday about Jun Kaneko, a Japanese sculptor living in
When I was in Jungian therapy some
25 years ago, I would write down all my dreams and discuss them with my
analyst. I remember vividly the dream
that clearly marked my therapeutic victory:
There was a powerful vampire who had been terrorizing many young women,
but especially me. He lived in a
magnificent home that resembled a white stuccoed Roman palace, with a great
deal of marble, a central interior courtyard, and many beautiful and priceless
art objects. I’d had dreams about him
before, and each time I had been unable to fight him off. But this dream was different. I was filled to bursting with a righteous
anger, and I unleashed its full fury on his house, knowing he was inside. The force I released, like an unstoppable
tornado, destroyed him and reduced his house to rubble. It was hugely satisfying, but the dream
didn’t leave it at that. After the dust
settled, I explored the ruins, knowing that I was fully entitled to keep
anything of value I might find. To my
great joy, I found a gorgeous Chinese enameled vase, more than waist high, from
the Ming dynasty. Incredibly, in this
scene of total destruction, this vase was completely intact and in perfect
condition. I set it carefully in a safe place, as some unseen observer
commented from the background that this vase was a priceless treasure, and I
had done well to find it. I continued to
poke around, and a short time later found its mate: a second huge Ming vase that clearly was
meant to go with the first. It was a
complete set—what a miracle. Then to my
dismay I noticed the long crack going up the side of the second vase. It wasn’t about to fall apart, but it was
clearly damaged. What a shame, I thought
at first. But then the unseen observer
spoke, confirming my next thought: No, it is not a shame. The crack makes it even more valuable.
I’ve been thinking about the gifts
of imperfection for the last few weeks, ever since that night I was driving
home fro the grocery store. It must have
been somewhere in the back of my mind when, last night, I cast about for some
bedtime reading and picked up an old copy of Soulmates: Honoring the Mysteries of Love and Relationship, by
Jungian analyst Thomas Moore. Probably,
therefore, it wasn’t just coincidence when his words on page 41 leaped out at
me:
“Another problem with the idea of
self-improvement is that it implies there is something wrong with who we
are. Everyone wants to be someone else,
but getting to know and love yourself means accepting who you are, complete
with your inadequacies and irrationalities.
Only by loving the soul in its entirety can we really love
ourselves. This doesn’t mean that we
can’t hope to live a fuller life or become a better person, but there is a
difference between self-improvement and the unfolding of the soul. In the latter we don’t take on an attitude of
perfection; rather, we draw closer to those things that we feel as imperfect
and let them be the openings through which the potentiality of the soul enters
into life.”
How, I wonder, can an essay in praise of imperfectionism be so perfect? Once again I am deeply grateful to Mary Wertsch for taking our very particular, yet so universal, brat psyche into therapy. Once again what she writes is the revelation so true it seems obvious and inevitable once excavated. I am sorry her son had stomach flu, but it has to be the most worthwhile bout ever endured since it triggered such a glittering constellation of insights.
Thank you, Mary
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Dear Mary
Have recently received your book and could't put it down, it kept me up at night as I read through it like I was on a Mission. It rang the inner bell of my self view true and loud. Thank you for putting material around a personal structure which I never deemed worthy of attention, it is all so temporary right, why bother? I laugh, I cry. Thank you.
Couple of thoughts about our imperfections, our longing for belonging. Perhaps the belief that belonging brings a more real self should be looked at in terms of perspective. Is there any more truth or meaning or value in belonging? Or is this a perspective we take as axiomatic when in the case of the brat, our belonging is more extended and longer to develop (perhaps never complete). The closest I have ever gotten to comfort with this "hole" in my who is a F. Nietzsche concept around the "innocence of becoming". We have chosen (or in the military brat case), or find ourselves in a larger space than belonging. It is perhaps unfair for us to value our space with the perspective of belonging to an ideal we never experienced.
Best regards.
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Mary--
Once again, you have absolutely and beautifully nailed the truth to the proverbial church doors of my mind on this deep and awesome subject of being a military brat.
The concept of light in darkness is an old one and yet never tired. I think it will exist as long as there are humans on earth.
I truly and really loved your dream!!! It seems as though you conquered (nay - you kicked ass!) whatever it was that was sucking away your energy - and in the midst found an object of impeccable beauty, an object as perfect as human hands could have made. Yet how AMAZING that you found its "other half", the cracked vase too.
One cannot be wholly itself without the other. In my reflections, I credit my military brat history with my individual perfect vase and my cracked one too. Side by side, they make a perfect whole.
Thank You, Mary!
Sherry
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Perfection is a demanding master! We live in an old house (yes, Mary--just as you said many brats do) and it is difficult to keep it perfect. I think that is what I like most about it--it keeps me in check.
I remember one time we rented a condo in Stowe, Vermont for a family time of skiing. I loved the condo--it was "perfect"--not many extras and everything had a place. I thought: I could just stay here and never mind what I left. Was it because it was "perfect"? Or was it because it reminded me a base housing and how it would be when we first moved in before our "stuff" arrived? I do not know. I just know the thought occured to me.
Perfection for me is hardest at work. I am a nurse and expect the best from me and coworkers. I am idealistic and exacting. After reading Mary's book I understand more about this and feel a bit freed from it and am relaxing my expectations at work.
Loved the thoughts you expressed. Can't wait for your next entry.
Candyce
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Candyce, I think that finally understanding how our culture shaped us is hugely liberating, in ways both profound and whimsical. For example, when it comes to traits like perfectionism that can be both good and problematic, it opens the door to humor. It's all so much easier to take when we can laugh at ourselves!
About your rented condo experience.... I have a fantasy something like that every time I feel beaten down by home ownership. (It can really be a headache, can't it!) I dream about moving into a brand-new, gleamingly clean and efficient apartment with no furniture, no clutter. Just very pleasant space with lots of light. Of course, I know in real life I would start to clutter it up immediately and it would all go downhill from there.
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I agree wholeheartedly. There is something to be said for cozy--and you cannot have that in a perfect house.
While we live in an old house--we do not own it. With both of us being brats we could not buy it. We wanted to feel like if we ever needed or wanted to we could get up and go. Nineteen years later we are still here!
I think renting never bothered us as we never owned our house growing up anyway. We truly felt home is where are heart is.
Since your book and the film my husband and I often laugh and say: "You are such a Brat!" as we realize now why we do some of the things we do. It was very freeing to realize so many others felt the same way.
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I just came a cross this posting by a young lady (a current brat, either an older child or a teenager and I thought it was just precious, plus this young lady is going places). The link to her blog posting is below--
http://www.areavoices.com/student/?blog=3699
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Mary, how did you realize the uniqueness of brats? What made you put it together? I was thinking about how many you have affected. The Brat DVD was made because the writer read your book. I am reading Yakota Officers Wives and she too acknowledged your book.
I realized it in a general way. Never in the intricate ways you observed.
It has helped me so much and I truly thank you.
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Candyce, thanks. I can easily tell you what opened my eyes: It was the film The Great Santini, which I happened to see around 1980 or so. That film, made from the novel by Pat Conroy, is about a Marine Corps family--and the family depicted, its issues, and the whole way of life was so much like what I experienced in an Army infantry family that I was floored. It's an excellent film, which I highly recommend--but as is usually the case, it is a pale version of the novel itself. I ran out and bought that book right away, and found it so evocative, so intelligent, so funny and so shocking that I can only describe it as an epiphany for me. Pat Conroy's extraordinary novel was how I had my eyes opened.
It also made me hungry for much more--and not for fictional representations so much as actual research, and research findings, and thoughtful analysis. I believed there was a non-fiction book out there already that would explain my culture to me, help me understand what happened in my family, and help me know myself. But I did a thorough search and discovered there was no such book--and since my need was so great, and since I was already a journalist, and because the best reason to ever write anything for publication is that you want passionately to read a particular thing but can't find it, I decided to write it myself. I would have tackled that huge project much sooner than I did, but I knew I wanted to write a book that would lay out the whole truth to the best of my ability--and I knew that would inevitably ruin the relationship I had worked so hard to rebuild with my father.
I waited five years, and started my research in September 1985, six months after he died. His death only intensified my need to understand, and I went after that understanding like a holy quest. It took five years of constant work to write that book--and those were the most gratifying, liberating, and life-changing years of my professional and personal life. Every single interview with a brat was a revelation to me, and it felt like an honor and a privilege to be on the trail of something that was so meaningful, so rich with questions to pursue, so rewarding in the journey. I'm grateful every time I hear my work has helped someone else, or has inspired a brilliant novel like AF brat Sarah Bird's The Yokota Officers' Club or a fine documentary like Army brat Donna Musil's Brats: Our Journey Home. I hope there will be a great many other works inspired by it, including more research on brats and on military families. There is much more to know about all this, and much that can be done to improve life for military families and help the children--our young cultural kin.
After years of raising my own sons and staying on the sidelines of the cultural movement my book helped start, I came to the decision to rededicate my life to this mission. I believe with all my heart that for us brats, understanding we have roots in the cultural context I call the Fortress is the path of personal liberation, of healthy balance, of positive living, and--perhaps most important of all--of compassion for our parents, our siblings, our selves, all military personnel, all vets, and, of course, for the young versions of ourselves now growing up in the Fortress. (There are currently 1.2 million children under 18 inside the Fortress.) Compassion, I think, is the key to it all--once there is understanding.
Pat Conroy's brilliant and acutely perceptive writing is what inspired me and put me on this path. Because of that, I eventually came upon what I think of as the Prescription for Brats, or the 3 C's: CLARITY, COMPASSION, CONNECTION.
That's what every brat needs, in a nutshell.
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I am so glad you saw the Great Santini and this put into motion your creative thoughts. I hadn't seen the movie until after I read your book. I was deeply touched, too, by the portrayal of a military family. In particular of Brats.
Yet, I don't think I would have made the connection you did and I am so glad you were able to go further with it.
I sent my brother Brats: Our Journey home and he said it was the best 1 1/2 of therapy he has ever had! He said it moved him to tears. I also sent him your book and he should be getting it any day.
WE have enjoyed so much being able to talk about it and understand ourselves and our family.
Thank you thank you thank you.
Candyce
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Military Brat Wikipedia Article Is Under Attack
This article on American Military brats has come under attack in its discussion area by those who: 1) Are calling for its award status to be revoked 2) Are claiming that the claims of military brat sub-culure are spurious.
There is other controvery on the site, but that is between brats. The issue of concern is not brat-to-brat disagreement, but those who are pushing to have the article demoted (revokation of its award status); buried (there is an attempt to bury it within other articles) and revoked-- some are calling for the military article to be defined as irrelevant by Wikipedia.
Any one who reads this should go make their voice heard:
Please note-- it's important to understand that there are TWO related sites 1) the discussion page and 2) the actually wikipedia article on military brats which is under attack.
Here is the discussion page link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk:Military_brat_%28U.S._subculture%29
And here is the article itself, which some people (a group?) are pushing to demote or revoke.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_brat_%28U.S._subculture%29
Thanks for anyone who will take a few minutes to make their voices heard on this-- this Wikipedia article has recently become a major Internet source on military brats so protecting its status is important.
The attacks on it seem to be politically motivated-- which makes no sense since my sense is that the brat identity movement is cultural and is based on common experience and is non-political.
So why it has become such a target escapes me.
Phil
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Phil, thank you so much for alerting us to this. Please, readers, check out the Wikipedia sits he has listed. I think the Wikipedia article is excellent. It covers a lot of ground and is a very valuable resource for us and for anyone in the military or working with military families. Please raise your voice to keep this article!
Mary
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Mary - I checked out the Wikipedia website after finding this website looking for you! I just finished Military Brats and was so blown away! Thank you a thousand fold for this book! I am in the process of completing my doctoral program in Clinical Psychology with my dissertation on The Concept of Home for Military Brats over 50. In doing my literature review, you are on the top of my list. You are so on target with everything it is as if you are in my head, lived my life. Well, I guess you did, too. At the age of 61, I do find my concept of home different than 30 years ago, 20 years ago. Belonging is only a piece of it, but I believe I finally found it. Thank you again for your work! Military Brats is being sent to my sister and my brother today.
Sharon Fields Riegel
daughter of a Lt.Col.(R) USAF
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Right-on as usual, Mary.... I have long and foolishly struggled to "be perfect" (whatever I thought that meant...) Now I still try to feel perfectly not-guilty about failing to be perfect... So crazy.... I had forgotten about the milbrat connections to perfectionism! I also now see my frequently biopolar projections (and over-reactions) as more typically milbrat.... And I've always been prickly about criticism--but thought it was just my critical parents, but it's more than that.... Fascinating commonalities! Thx, Nancy
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Mary, I love your insightful post. I was in therapy for two years in my 20's, but unfortunately the therapist just could not seem to understand what I was up against trying to unravel my childhood. Your book I read 10 years later helped me start the process of true healing. I don't know if it will ever heal completely, and I am not sure that it should, but at least I can look at this in a kind manner and realize the past is part of me and my present, and there were a lot of good things too.
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Kathryn, I don't think anyone could put the goal better than you just did. That's absolutely it in a nutshell.
I think people often have the wrong idea about healing--as though it means arriving at a point where pain and loss are forgotten or somehow erased. When you write "I don't know if it will ever heal completely and I am not sure that it should", you capture it exactly. The history is always there--but in finally arriving at a clear-headed, empathetic understanding of our roots, our selves, and our family members, we are liberated from what otherwise imprisons and isolates us.
I like to say there are three things every military brat needs:
Clarity--about our roots in the military
Compassion--for our parents, our siblings, our selves, and other brats
Connection--to other brats, who have so much in common with us, and who understand.
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