Broke the Streak, Found the Gold

I took on a new commitment that I had been doing really well with for quite some time. Meditating. Ten minutes a day. Everyday. Just me, sitting down to breathe. To slow down. To not be at war with the moment.

Meditation had become my little daily victory. Two solid weeks in. No streaks broken. I felt grounded. Like I was finally doing something “right” for my mind and my body.

Then one random, chaotic day, I missed it. Just one day. But the next morning felt weirdly hard. That little voice crept in fast:
“You broke it.”
“You were doing so well, and now it’s ruined.”
“You have to start all over.”

It sounds dramatic, but perfectionism talks like that: sharp, absolute, and unforgiving.

It’s strange how that voice shows up so fast, the one that tells you if it’s not perfect, it doesn’t count. If you broke the streak, it was never real. That binary thinking, all or nothing, it’s a trap.

But then something clicked. This wasn’t a failure. It was life. It was human.

It reminded me of wabi-sabi: the Japanese philosophy that sees beauty in the imperfect, the incomplete, the ever-changing. It’s the opposite of what perfectionism sells us.

And even more, it reminded me of kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold: not to hide the cracks, but to honor them. To show that what’s been broken and healed is even more valuable than something untouched.

That missed day wasn’t the end of anything. It was the golden seam. The proof I’m still showing up: not perfectly, but fully. Because here’s the truth: imperfection and impermanence aren’t exceptions to life: they are life.

I understood that we aren’t here to perform flawlessness. We’re here to live, stumble, adapt, and grow. The beauty isn’t in getting it all “right.” The beauty is in coming back. Again and again.

It’s crazy how perfectionism tries to convince us that being polished and flawless is the goal but honestly, it’s the real, raw parts of us that connect with others and make us stand out.

So here’s a thought: Instead of beating ourselves up for not being “perfect,” what if we paused and asked: What’s one crack in our story that’s actually made us stronger? What’s one thing we’re proud to own because it’s part of our journey?

To continue with my story: I am back on my golden wagon with my daily meditation and completing another two solid weeks and showing up again with those crack in my streak because I realised owning those cracks isn’t just brave, it’s what makes my story mine. And that? That’s pure gold