Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – February 5, 2004
A Recovering Perfectionist
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – February 5, 2004 – At some point as my little body was rolling along the baby assembly line – God, or perhaps one of his naughty little angels thought – “Just for fun let’s make this one a perfectionist”. Zap – a few sprinkles of obsessive-compulsive dust and a dollop of perfectionism potion landed on my unsuspecting forehead.
The die was cast. As a kid I obviously had no understanding that I was so inclined, I simply wanted things to be a “certain” way, and my way was the right one. As the teen years came charging along, the need to have everything “just so” had settled in very strongly, and it started to become more of a challenge when things didn’t go my way.
It was also a time when I started to compare myself to others. Ah-hah the need for things to be even more perfect. ‘Perfect’ is sort of like ‘round’ isn’t it? How much more perfect can ‘perfect’ be?
As I got older and a little smarter I noticed things in my behaviour that I found incredibly amusing. Perfectly puffed pillows on the couch, all the coasters stacked in a perfect little pile, never a hair out of place, my home cleaned to within an inch of its life, a broken finger nail was cause for concern – no longer a perfect set, the placement of dishes on a table, window blinds all at the right height, no wrinkles allowed on my tee-shirt, pressed denim jeans (can you imagine?) – and the list went on and on and on.
The pursuit of ‘perfectionism’ takes an enormous amount of energy. I decided there must be a better way, but realized that my quest to slay the devious beast could only happen in stages. My perfectionism was combined with my tendency to be a tad obsessive and compulsive . What a combo! I think I’m like an addict – never completely cured. I started small and now think of myself as a recovering ‘perfectionist’ and I’m just fine with that.
I’m amused by the media “pursuit of and hunger for” perfect people, places and things – heightened to a ridiculous extreme in our culture by the worship of celebrity. The drive to have perfect faces, bodies, children, homes, cars, wine cellars, schools, holidays, careers, cottages and marriages. Whew – it makes me tired.
One of the amazing things about getting older is the lovely self-acceptance that has started to find its way into my heart and soul. I will likely always be inclined to straighten pictures and pillows, but the days are long gone when I go back up three flights of stairs to adjust a window blind.
I find more and more that I really appreciate my life and how I fit into the universe. I’ve given up trying to predict what will be around the next bend in the river – I’m grateful to be going in the same direction as the current. So “out, out damn spot” (Shakespeare) – away with thee Lady Perfect and welcome in her place the woman I am – and I’m likin’ her!
