See... I'm a perfectionist. And anyone who knows a perfectionist knows that if it can't be done right (or perfect) then often times, it doesn't get done at all.
a personal standard, attitude, or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less.
Hence the blog. If I can't keep it up perfectly, then it doesn't get done at all. Sigh...
Over the years I've learned more and more the trade of anti-perfectionism, but I still fall into the evil ways of my old self. Let's talk about a few of those (evil ways, that is):
- I used to only wear my hair in a barrette, half up half down... because it was the only way my hair looked... wait for it... perfect.
- I ironed my jeans.
- I slept "perfect" which resulted in "perfect" bedding upon waking in the morning... which then enabled me to pull up my bedding in about 10 seconds, which resulted in a "perfect" bedroom prior to leaving for school.
- Are you scared of me yet?
- I rarely tried new things, because I wouldn't be good at them.
- I stopped playing sports, because I was afraid of being cut... thus, not being perfect.
- I was worried about the opinion of others... afraid they wouldn't like me... which would prove an imperfect personality.
Learning to "loosen up" (not in the slutty way) and have some fun in life was and continues to be the best thing a girl like me could ever do. College was a good time for that, although my efforts to be perfect were ignored by the guy I was madly in love with (not Matt, in case you're interested), ignored by leadership and eventually lead to the awareness that being perfect is not enough to make it in this life... and not enough to find happiness.
Ding! Ding! We've got a winner! Perfectionism will not bring happiness!
Then I met Matt. He was the first guy I loved who loved me back, in my imperfections. How beautiful is that?! It was the first time I felt loved by someone for who I was... and the first time I realized I could love life without perfectionism.
What!? I could LOVE LIFE!? Without being perfect!? In fact... being imperfect made life easier to love. Good Lord, that's awesome!
I'm a wife... and a really bad one some days. In fact, it's 2:25 in the afternoon and I'm still braless, in my pj's and haven't actually planned one meal yet. Yea... not exactly the best example of a "perfect" wife. But... I love my husband, I fold his underwear and will smooch him bigtime when he gets home from work. And that's imperfectly enough some days.
I'm a daughter... who adores her imperfect family. They've accepted and loved me when I spoke out of turn, exerted my own opinions, disrespected them and been so ungrateful it's shameful. But, I accept that love in spite of my imperfection, because I can't imagine doing life without them.
I'm a friend who screws up all the time. I forget plans, gossip and make jokes at the expense of others. I am unintentionally rude and often don't deserve the friends I have. I constantly dwell on my imperfections as a friend, but... you only live once and the friends who love me are keepers. I have to accept that they love me in spite of the fact that I'm a screwball. In fact, maybe they love me BECAUSE I'm a screwball. Here's hoping.
I'm a Christ follower. And I'm shamelessly flawed. But, as a follower of Christ it's my desire to bring those flaws into the light and present them to the Lord in humility. My efforts to be perfect deny the lordship of Christ in my life... deny the need for healing and reject the truth of love and grace. Grace for myself and for others. Being imperfect allows me to seek my creator and god daily. And that's a beautiful thing
In a nutshell, I am still a perfectionism failure and I still live every day battling the desire to be perfect. The desire to have a perfect home, perfect heart and perfect hair (those are the most perfect things, people!!)... and yet I still fall short. And that's okay, because every failure is an opportunity to be reminded that life is too great to live perfectly. Some of the most beautiful times come from imperfect moments. All of my personal growth comes from times when I've colored outside the lines and been brave enough to be imperfect... When I've accepted that I'm perfectly imperfect, because of my imperfections.