Stealth Perfectionism

I have perfectionist tendencies. This is not news.  I've written about perfectionism so much that I can't even begin to find all the posts. {I tried. But it would require so many hyper-links that I just gave up and didn't link a single one. Take that, perfectionism!} Awareness is half the battle and a few weeks ago I would have told you that in recent years, bit by bit, I've kicked my perfectionist ways to the curb. But lately I've become aware of the subtle sneakiness of perfectionism, how it rears its ugly head even in the mundane. There's nothing inherently wrong with striving for excellence. If you are my brain surgeon, I hope you're a perfectionist. But most of our ways and tasks are not life and death.  I'll give you a few personal examples. I like to eat healthy, not to be confused with actually eating healthy. I feel better and have more energy when I eat good food. My ideal healthy breakfast is a fruit smoothie with handfuls of spinach or kale thrown in. {For the record, my ideal unhealthy breakfast is Waffle House.} But sometimes the craziness of the morning does not offer ideal conditions to whip up my kale smoothie and I keep thinking I might be able to make one so I wait and get the kids off to school and fold up some laundry real quick and check my e-mail and think about the smoothie and how I really should have that for breakfast instead of a lesser choice and then it's 10:30 and I am seeing stars and about to pass out. All because I'm holding out for the perfect breakfast when an acceptable breakfast would have kept me vertical. Here's another example. I try to make our family's budget stretch as far as I can. In the past I've used coupons for groceries and toiletries and sometimes I still do. I know when I'm getting something for a great price and when I'm overpaying and the latter just kills me, even when I know it's out of necessity. Too often we'll need something and I'll see it at the store and know that I should pick it up but I can save $1 if I have that coupon from home and maybe I should just wait on these things that I know I could get cheaper and come back tomorrow armed with my money-saving skillz but by the next morning we are using napkins to wipe our hineys and I'm mixing half and half with water to pour over the kids' cereal and everyone hates me. All because I'm trying to save $3 on toilet paper and milk.  I'm not done yet. I procrastinate laundry because I want to get it all done at once which never happens and I wonder why 8 piles are staring me in the face on any given day. I'd given up on buying plants and flowers because I kill them. {Until the Nester's posts reminded me that every plant will eventually die and a year's worth of beauty from blooms is well worth a few measly dollars.} I rarely send cards and notes because I feel like I need to send everyone who needs a card the perfect handwritten note and then I don't end up sending any and now? No one knows that I love them. Do you see what I'm getting at?

It's downright embarrassing how perfectionism lurks around in the recesses of my mind and taunts me with striving and guilt. It is ridiculous how much time and energy I waste trying to do something perfectly {by my standards} instead of adequately. And it is insane that I fail to acknowledge, time and again, that there is always opportunity cost. Always. Every yes is also a no and this is one of the most important lessons any of us can learn. Rest and sanity? They're worth something. Quite a lot actually. 

Food on the table? That's success, no matter what you paid for it.

Toilet paper in the holder? Pat yourself on the back.  A note to a friend even if there are eight thank-you notes you keep forgetting to write? Awesome. You have a friend who knows you love her.  Confronting my perfectionism forces me to prioritize, to examine what I really value. Priorities may shift from season to season but right now, for me, I have chosen rest and healing and just the bare necessities.  It means my grocery bill is a little higher.  It means my kids are in public school instead of being classically-educated at home. It means my house is messier than I'd like. {Well, that's not really a new theme.} It means I spend some mornings writing in the quiet instead of matching up socks or scrubbing toilets or mopping my floor. It means I choose fruitfulness over productivity.  Daily, I have to preach acceptance and remind my high-strung, high-standards self that it's all okay. It really is okay.  And there is exhilarating freedom in making friends with okay and telling perfect to move out. Unless you're a brain surgeon.