Why You Don't Need to Be Perfect to Matter

I've been watching the sky more these days. Not studying it, just noticing. The way clouds move without asking permission. The way stars flicker even when no one's counting them. And the moon—always the moon—refusing to be the same thing twice.

Last week it was barely there. A fingernail. A whisper. I almost missed it completely. But there it was, tucked into the corner of the night, still glowing. Still present. Not apologizing for being incomplete.

We spend so much time waiting to be whole before we allow ourselves to exist fully. We tell ourselves: when I'm happier, when I'm heavier, when I'm lighter, when I have more money, when I've healed, when I've figured it out—then I'll be ready. Then I'll be worth something.

But the moon doesn't wait for permission to show its face. It doesn't hide on the nights it feels fractional. It rises anyway, in whatever form it takes, and the world is better for it.

There's something freeing in that, isn't there? The idea that you don't need to be complete to be beautiful. That your value isn't measured by how "together" you appear. That even your half-lit days, your barely-hanging-on moments, still count. Still matter.

Some mornings I wake up and I'm only at 40%. My mind is foggy. My body feels heavy. I don't have much to give. And for a long time, I thought that made me less than. That I had to perform at 100% to deserve my own existence.

But I think about the moon again. How it shows up in phases. How it never rushes its own rhythm. How it lights up the path for travelers even when it's just a sliver, even when it's waning, even when half of it is hidden in shadow.

Maybe we're like that too. Maybe our light doesn't diminish just because we can't always shine at full brightness. Maybe the people who need us don't need us to be perfect—they just need us to be present. To show up. To reflect whatever light we can manage that day.

I'm learning to be gentler with myself on the nights I feel like a crescent. To stop apologizing for not being full. To understand that wholeness isn't a requirement for worthiness—it's just one phase in an endless, beautiful cycle.

So if you're reading this and you're feeling like you're not enough right now, like you're missing pieces, like you're too tired or too broken or too dim to matter—look up tonight. Find the moon. Whatever shape it's in.

It's still there. Still glowing. Still guiding.

And so are you.

You don't need to wait until you're whole to shine. You're already doing it. Right now. Just as you are.