“Flawesome” might sound like a catchy word, but it has more depth than that. In this final part of my journey through Kristina Mӓnd-Lakhiani’s From Awesome to Flawesome program on Mindvalley, I’m beginning to see why it’s much needed in my vocabulary.
We’re not broken; we’re just human.
That’s Kristina’s point in these 25 lessons of flawesomeness.
But I’ll let you in on a little secret: as much as I’ve written on her work, her book, her programs, I never truly understood the essence of “flawesome.”
Like, your flaws are awesome? Okaaay…but if that’s the case, then what’s the point of personal growth and everything that Mindvalley stands for? What’s the point of fixing the things that feel broken?
“I want you to understand right now at this point that you are not broken or wrong, and you don’t need fixing,” she explained. “What you are is human, and you might be wounded, and you might need healing. Fixing implies brokenness. Healing implies human experience. You’re just human.”
Okaaay, now the word “flawesome” started to make more sense. It wasn’t about fixing the flaws, but about healing the parts of me that never felt enough.
And that sounded awesome.
Curse or blessing, as Kristina Mӓnd-Lakhiani asks
Back in the early 2000s, my mom had a friend with breast cancer. Every time we asked how she was, her answer was the same: Alhamdulillah (all praise is due to God). We never knew her pain because her reply never changed.
I thought of her often during the cancer experience (which you can read throughout this series). Even in the worst moments, she still found blessings.
That perspective shaped how I saw the diagnosis. It’s like the question Kristina posed in her program: “Are you going to make it your curse or your blessing?”
Most would expect a “woe is me” reaction, but like my mom’s friend, I saw it as the latter…for many reasons, like:
- It gave me a second chance at life. Sure, I did f*ck up my body, but the cancer was caught early enough to treat. I learned to explore intuitive eating and listen to what my body needed instead of what I wanted.
- It allowed my now-husband and I to have the wedding we wanted. I was diagnosed a month before our nuptials, and no one dared stress me out or argue over cultural expectations. So instead of a massive traditional wedding, we had a small ceremony and reception.
- It reminded me there were plenty of things to be grateful for, like the support around me, working remotely through treatment, still walking on the treadmill, still doing yoga. This wasn’t the forced silver-lining spin of toxic gratitude but something that kept me going.
Sure, cancer absolutely sucks. But in its flaws, I found the blessings. And that’s the heart of being flawesome.
“Not everything that happens to you in life is for the better,” Kristina said, “but whatever happens to you, you can turn it for the better.”
Happily flawesome, period
I’ve always been the kind to move to the beat of my own drum. Even when I was a kid, the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” had only one answer: happy.
And when I came across that John Lennon quote, it felt like proof that I wasn’t completely off base. You might’ve seen it:
“When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy.’ They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”
There’s also this one memory that comes back whenever imposter syndrome shows up. A friend of my parents once asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up (what is with this question, really?). I said a stewardess, and someone laughed and called it “a waitress in the sky.”
But I didn’t see it that way. I wanted to see the world, and every time I flew, the stewardesses were always so kind to me. That kindness felt like happiness.
And for a kid, that was enough. As an adult, happiness became the question I kept circling back to.
Happiness tested
The fact of the matter is, as studies show, people who prioritize happiness tend to live longer, stay healthier, and even perform better at work. So, it turns out my childhood answer wasn’t so naïve.
But that’s not to say that people weren’t quick to dismiss it.
I remember, during one of the cancer treatment days, I was telling one of the nurses that I was doing some light walking on a treadmill during the day and light yoga at night. And her response to is was a blunt, “Why?”
It caught me off guard, definitely. Like, why not? It’s my body and doing something other than “woe-ing is me” made me feel good.
“When you fall down on the ground, it’s not so easy to get up because gravity works in one direction only,” Kristina points out. “To get up, you have to put some effort.”
She also highlights how we’re wired to strive for the perfect version of ourselves. But flawesomeness? It shows up in the small, imperfect choices that keep us alive, keep us moving, keep us real.
Plus, my choices made me happy. And that, I do believe, was the flawesome point.
Becoming flawesome
Okay, okay… So it took me 25 lessons to truly understand what Kristina means by the word “flawesome.” But now that I understand the idea behind it, it really is an awesome word.
I like that she encourages us not to glorify our flaws, nor pretend they don’t sting. It’s just that they’re part of the human package that shapes who we are.
For her, perfectionism is part of who she is. For me, not-enoughness is part of who I am.
“What I’m trying to tell you,” said Kristina, “is that your flaws, the things that you’re ashamed of, your dragons in the darkest corners of your dungeons might be exactly the things which are your blessing.”
And maybe this dragon has gifts tucked inside it:
- It keeps me human. I’ll never be the untouchable, polished version of myself I sometimes imagine, and maybe that’s what makes me real.
- It pushes me to grow. The tension of not-enoughness is why I keep learning, experimenting, and writing these stories in the first place.
- It sharpens my empathy. Because I know how “not enough” feels, I recognize it instantly in others, and I meet them with compassion instead of judgment.
- It makes me relatable. People don’t resonate with a flawless, always-confident persona. They resonate with someone who says, “yeah, I still wrestle with not-enoughness.”
- It builds resilience. Every time the dragon knocks me down, I practice getting back up.
The thing with life is that it’s unpredictable. And the best thing you can do, as Kristina pointed out, “is get the best out of whatever life throws at you.”
It’s about letting go, she added. It’s about trusting. And that’s one step in the direction of becoming flawesome.
And you?
Maybe you’ve been chasing perfect so long you forgot what it feels like to be real. Or maybe you’ve hidden the parts of yourself you thought were too messy, too loud, too much.
If that’s you, I see you.
I’m creating space for conversations that don’t demand flawless, that don’t cover the cracks, that let us be both flawed and awesome at the same time.
So if flawesome is something you’re still practicing, or if showing up as the unpolished version of yourself feels scary, send me a message.
Let’s talk. xo