I've been thinking a lot lately about this whole idea of perfection. Being perfect. And I know I've written about it a few times before. Perfectionism is such a bi@&h, you guys. It really is.
But lately, for some reason, I've felt the pressure hard core. The pressure to be perfect. In everything I do. Have a perfect house, be a perfect wife, daughter, sister, and friend. Look perfect. Have a perfectly clean house. Have perfect dinners and lunches. Everything needs to be perfect. I'm exhausted just writing about it.
And then I thought the other day about this. All of this. Why do we feel the need to be perfect anyway? And why don't we think we are perfect just the way we are?
I used to love so many things about myself. The fact that I'm crazy anal about everything. The fact that I can make a plan for a plan and almost always stick to it. The fact that I'm too organized for my own good and sometimes I get legitimately excited to just spend a day cleaning and organizing. The fact that I want to make things pretty and lovely (pretty much all of the time). These were my strengths. The things that made me who I am. And the thing that made me the perfect fit with a dude like Mr. T.
But now, suddenly, these are the things that I find the most frustrating about myself. I find myself critiquing every little freaking thing. And I find that I pressure myself to be all of those things all of the time. I'm too hard on myself. I worry about everything. I can't just let go. Have a little fun. Be human sometimes. And all of those things that I once liked about myself are now the things that feel like a chore. That feel like they get in the way. They don't feel like good things anymore.
I know that I'm still a newly(ish)wed and we just bought a home together so I'm nesting. I'm doing all the things I never could as a renter. But sheesh, can't a gal just put her feet up and relax sometimes.
Sometimes my house isn't clean. Sometimes I just don't want to shower or wear matching clothes. Sometimes I forget to put lotion on before bed or after I shower. Sometimes I eat too many wings or too much candy or drink too much. And sometimes doing some of those things lead me to not accomplishing as many tasks as maybe I wanted to (or should have).
All of that's OK and it's not a big deal. None of these are things that need to be fretted about. Sometimes it's OK to just ignore all of the grown up things and take a nap. Sometimes it's OK that you didn't get to check everything off of your to do list. As long as you aren't doing that every day or napping at work (because that's a terrible idea, you guys). But, seriously, it's not a big deal.
Life is all a balance. It's equal parts of getting shit done and not worrying about shit. Or maybe not exactly equal, but you still have to have both parts. And I am having a terrible time finding that balance. I feel like I once had it, but where did it go?