Perfectionism.

Current mood: pensive

The universe is trying very hard to tell me to stop struggling with my incessant need for perfection. I've had correspondence with three different inspiring and confident girls today who all in some way reminded me to allow myself permission to be "enough," plus I had an eye-opening experience visiting with my aunt and grandmother yesterday. I'm talking in particular about a quest to be perfect at things I attempt and perfect in my personality. I spent quite a lot of time wasted not doing things because I was afraid I wasn't good enough at them. Over the last year or so especially, I've been trying to overcome that and do those things because I love them, whether I am the best or not. I'm also always afraid that if I proceed with something confidently, I'm going to appear like one of those American Idol tryouts who think they have the world's greatest gift to offer with their voice but actually suck. It's fine to keep realistic expectations of yourself, but it's sad to spend a life holding yourself back because you're afraid you won't measure up. Life is meant to be lived and experienced.

I visited my grandmother yesterday - my mom's mom who is 93 years old. She is in perfect health physically, but her mind is starting to go. I had to remind her a few times of who I was. She is one of the strongest, most inspiring women I know. I wish to God that I knew her even better than I do. I never want to forget all her stories. She is a woman who does not worry about anything. She just doesn't. I even asked her once if it frustrated her when she started to forget things, and she just laughed and said, "No. Nothin' worries me. It don't do no good to worry no way." I aspire to be like her. I've always worried about every little thing and analyzed it to death. Yet here is this amazing woman who has lost her husband, her daughter - all of her immediate family besides my aunt and me, actually - and she has had a happy but rather difficult life at times, and her mind is going and she knows it...and yet she is always in good spirits, always belly-laughing, always optimistic. She is the epitome of the concept of the book Happy for No Reason by Marci Shimoff. What in the world would that feel like, to be so joyful like that? To just accept things as they are and not necessarily like them but make the best of what you have and be content with it? I definitely have periods like that, but in general, I'm not very good at acceptance or being content with the way things are. Things that just aren't FAIR are hard for me to accept. And I'm always reaching for MORE. Which I think is a very good quality in many ways, but perhaps there are times when I should just let something "be."

While we were there, my aunt was telling stories about when I was a baby. Especially now that my mom is gone, I treasure stories like that because it makes her come alive again in a sense when I think about how happy she was to have me. My aunt said when I was a baby, I knew what people were saying and quite obviously could understand any conversation...she would ask me as a one-year-old child where the toothpaste was when she babysat me and couldn't find it, and I would point and lead her to it...but I would not talk. If people would ask me my name, I would keep my mouth firmly closed and reply, "Hmm-hmm-hmm," three syllables for "Jen-ni-fer." She said I would not talk until I knew I could say every word properly. I must have practiced by myself, because at some point I just started speaking with perfect enunciation after barely speaking at all. It was apparently not because I was slow to learn words (I could read novels before I started kindergarten and type complete, punctuated sentences when I was eight, and I even italicized my own handwriting, for God's sake, when I was eight, which is maybe a little weird) or even because I was too shy or too stubborn...it really seems as though I just wasn't going to embarrass myself by not doing it perfectly, so I just didn't do it at all until I had it down.

She also said there were times as a baby and toddler when I would just sit there with clenched fists and look extremely tense. Not angry or frustrated, but just tense, like something was worrying me and I was obsessing over it. What in the heck could have been bothering me that bad at THAT age? But I have always been angsty and restless since I can remember. Not unhappy, but always questioning, always searching, always thinking.

All this was very telling for me. I had a tremendously happy childhood and love all around...my parents never placed unrealistic expectations on me or pressured me into doing or being anything...it is all self-imposed, and apparently it has been there from the beginning. There was something freeing about realizing I've always been that way rather than it being something I developed over time; I really don't know why, but it makes me feel a little better. It's a battle I constantly wage, but I'm determined to get there. I will be perfect at not being perfect. (Just kidding.) My mom spent her life never knowing her own worth, and I have decided I want to realize mine and not look back one day and wish that I had.

I may not be perfect. There are lots of things I don't like about myself. I will always strive to be more enlightened and will always have room for improvement. But...I am "enough." I need to give myself room to breathe and room to make mistakes and be flawed. I need to cut myself some slack now and then and stop berating myself when I don't measure up to my own impossible standards.

For more on this subject in a very profoundly written blog, visit Brooke White's blog:
http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=8985501&blogID=80374769

I've been set on a path toward freedom. I will have to keep working on it to keep it from overtaking me, but I want to. And if there is a good thing about the constant drive for perfection, it's that I strive to know myself completely, I search things out instead of blindly accepting the status quo, and I avoid settling and complacency. I just have to find the balance.