Repair

Before I start, in honor of Memorial Day, I’m resharing one of my favorite pieces I wrote: Adversity and Leadership.

I screw up. A lot. I lose patience with my kids, get short with my wife, and cancel plans with friends. I miss family gatherings. I skip workouts, eat my body weight in peanut butter M&Ms, and sometimes feel like a cold beer is the best solution to a problem. I'm a special combination of perfectionist and procrastinator that leads to some late-night sprints to meet work deadlines. I go months (and months and months) without writing on Casey's Notes.

In short, I'm as flawed as everyone else. But as the protagonist (and antagonist) of my own life story, I think my flaws are unique, shameful, and obvious.

A key to accepting my flaws has been the idea of repair. In her book Good Inside, Dr. Becky Kennedy says, "Our parenting doesn't have to be defined by our moments of struggle. It should be defined by whether or not we connect with our kids after the struggle, and whether we explore how those moments felt to them and work to repair the rupture in the relationship."

Good Inside is a parenting book, but the advice applies to all our flaws. Whether with our kids, spouses, friends, family, coworkers, or—maybe most importantly—ourselves, we can define ourselves by the repair rather than the rupture.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with powdered silver, gold, or platinum. It's basically the visual manifestation of repair. And philosophically, the repair becomes part of the object's history rather than something to hide.

Rather than appreciate our flaws for being part of our story, how often do we instead try to cover them up? We tell our kids "because I said so" instead of examining our own thinking. We're too proud to tell our spouses we're sorry. We make excuses to our friends instead of saying we need a night off. We tell our coworkers how busy we are instead of admitting we're burned out.

But with kintsugi, flaws improve the piece. The object becomes more beautiful than the original. The same can be true for us. Admitting we're not perfect parents can make us more approachable and closer to our kids. More honesty can create deeper friendships. Accepting what burns us out at work can put us on the path to a more sustainable and fulfilling career.

Just as kintsugi makes art out of mistakes, scars—physical and emotional—make us who we are. Every good story has a villain, and every good life has flaws. Instead of hiding from them, let's start accepting them, sharing them, and appreciating how much more beautiful life is because of them.

Just keep the peanut butter M&Ms out of the house.