Parting ways with Perfectionism

  

“Oh, you’re one of those,” he said as he walked into the kitchen at work.

I was re-loading the dishwasher. Some of my work colleagues seem to crack open the dishwasher just far enough to slide a dish or a coffee mug into the nearest vacant space. Others just leave their dirty cups and cutlery in the sink. 

I’m not the kitchen police, but if I’m in the kitchen and there are dirty dishes in the sink I load them in the dishwasher. In the process I end up reorganising the dishes so that everything fits better, and gets washed properly. At least that’s what I tell myself when I’m lining up all the mugs on one side and the glasses on the other, and straightening the plates that have been dumped at an angle in the rack.

My colleague caught me re-organising. He is not one of “those.” In fact he cares so little about where items go in a dishwasher that his wife has banned him from loading anything into the dishwasher at home. 

I didn’t want to be labelled as “one of those”, but then I had to acknowledge to myself that I do struggle with being a perfectionist. 

You wouldn’t know it from the state of my house or my email Inbox, but being a perfectionist is not about always achieving perfection. It’s about wanting everything to be perfect, and being uncomfortable, uptight, disappointed or upset when things are not perfect, even when reality tells me it’s not possible or even important.

It also means I’m constantly afraid of trying anything that I can’t be confident that I’ll at least do well, even if I can’t do it perfectly. And that rules out trying a lot of new things. It’s no wonder that I have a spectacular capacity for procrastination. I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid the risk of failure. 

I set the benchmark ridiculously high for just about anything I do, and if perfection is the standard I set for myself, then it becomes the standard I set for everyone else. And that makes me critical and judgmental – critical of myself and critical of others.

I’m trying to control my life so that I get the right outcomes. If I don’t get things perfectly right I’m afraid that I won’t be liked, approved or loved. And then where will I be?

But I tell myself that’s not really true. I think I need to be perfect, but then I don’t connect with other people when they seem to have it all perfectly together. They’re intimidating. 

I connect with people when they are open and honest about their struggles and their mess. Not in a “woe is me, I can never get it right” kind of way, but in an authentic “this is me and this is where I am on the journey” kind of way. 

Perfectionism is like a noose around my neck, like control underwear, like a boa constrictor; it’s squeezing the life out of me.

I want to be free to try new things, to make mistakes and learn from them. I want to be someone who gives and receives grace. I want to become the person I was made to be.

I want to part ways with perfectionism.

I don’t know exactly what that will look like yet, but I want to find out.

Image credit: morguefile.com

What peanut M&Ms and the dentist have to do with flourishing

What does flourishing look like? Today it looks an orange temporary filling in my left molar and mascara stains on my cheeks. Let me explain.

My past experiences with the dental profession have not been great, and for over ten years I’ve been avoiding them altogether. That is until the other night when a chunk of my tooth broke on a peanut M&M. My avoidance days were over, and in a move of uncharacteristic decisiveness on my part I rang the next day to make an appointment.

Fast forward to this morning. I was a little anxious but thought I was holding it together quite well … until I stepped into the dental surgery.

By the time I’d filled in the new patient information card and sat down to wait I was rapidly spiralling into a hot mess. When the dental nurse called me in I had peeled off my coat, scarf and jacket and was trying to staunch a flood of tears with a tissue. I hadn’t realised I was that anxious.

Thanks to a lovely and understanding dentist, forty-five minutes later I walked out with my temporary filling and two new appointments for a permanent filling and to deal with a few other minor issues that have developed over the dentist-free years. (Note: I’m not encouraging anyone else to avoid regular dental check-ups, I’m very lucky not to have any major issues.)

So why do I call this flourishing? Because today I stopped avoiding one of my fears and faced it. And despite the anxiety and the tears, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be.

Yes, it helped to have a dentist who understood my anxiety, and who had a strategy for helping me through it. And that’s the point, I got through it instead of running away from it.

I call it flourishing because I walked out feeling a little lighter and a little stronger, as if a weight had been lifted, and it has.

I call it flourishing because today I feel just a little more like the me I was created to be.

Image sourced here.

31 Days: Listening to Jesus the Son

So here’s an interesting fact about sunflowers. When they’re growing, sunflowers tilt their heads to track the sun through the day. For that reason I’ve always liked the sunflower as an analogy for the way that we’re to turn our faces to the Son, to follow him.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:1-5, 14

 

In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.

Hebrews 1:1-3a

Every time we listen to what Jesus taught, we are hearing the voice of the living God.
…
The teachings of Jesus Christ are not to be blended into the Scriptures as though He were one of many equally important voices used by God. He is, in truth, the living revelation of God Himself, the sole expression of His invisible glory. When Christ speaks, we are listening to God unfiltered, unbiased, unveiled.

Francis Frangipane,  I will be Found by You

Will you come near to listen? Will you tilt your head to follow the Son, and listen to him?

Photo sourced here.

This is Day 30 of 31 Days to Listen.

31 Days to Listen

If you’ve been reading Flourish! for a while you might remember that I started the year reflecting on God’s whispered invitation to listen. In October I’m joining other bloggers taking on The Nester‘s 31 Day challenge to write every day of the month on the same topic. I want to learn how to listen well, so I’ll be writing every day about listening. I’d also love to hear about your experience and perspective on listening, so I hope you’ll join me on this listening journey.

I’ll be adding a link here for each day, so there’s one place to find all the month’s writing together. And if I can sort out the technology there will also be a button on the home page so you can check back here any time during the month.

Day 1: He listens
Day 2: The Why of Listening
Day 3: In the Silence of the Heart
Day 4: Are you willing to listen?
Day 5: Go near to listen …
Day 6: Listening to nature
Day 7: Alone with God
Day 8: When Listening means Waiting
Day 9: Be still and Listen
Day 10: Trusting enough to listen
Day 11: Listening to His Word
Day 12: Listening for the Invitation
Day 13: Listening and Doing
Day 14: A prayer for listening
Day 15: Listening with others
Day 16: Listen and Follow
Day 17: When a bench is an invitation to listen
Day 18: Longing for those who would listen
Day 19: The Journey to Listen
Day 20: Listen and stay a little longer
Day 21: Listen in Solitude
Day 22: The Gift of Listening
Day 23: Listening – the gift of paying attention
Day 24: Listening to the still small voice
Day 25: Who would we rather listen to?
Day 26: Listening to Lessons from The Wrong Book
Day 27: What if you listened?
Day 28: Listening to God speak through Others
Day 29: Listening – choosing what is better
Day 30: Listening to Jesus the Son
Day 31: It’s only the Beginning of Listening

Finding early morning soul space

I sit on the bench. In the quiet I watch the sun rise and listen to the birds singing and calling to one another. There are few people around at that hour, but the wetlands are prolific with all kinds of bird life.

What a glorious morning, and I have nowhere else to be, no need to rush. I want to sit and soak it all in, to breathe and be present in this moment.

But there is also a little voice urging me to get up, get moving, and do something more productive.

I’m restless.

It’s not easy to stop, to be still, to be present, to listen.

I know this is an invitation to be with the Lord, to sit with him, watch with him. Not worrying about a prayer list, not worrying about whether he will speak to me. But just to be. To open my eyes, my ears and my heart to the beauty around me, allow it to inspire wonder and worship.

But it’s still a struggle to stay on that bench, not to get up and walk away.

A week later and I am back at the wetlands, sitting on the same bench. Another early morning. The fairy wrens are playing chasy, looping in circles, skimming low over the ground, alighting on reed stems before hopping from one to the next. Light glitters on the rippling water. The sun is a glowing orb rising from behind the hill.

Glorious.

And this time – this time is different. This time I’m not restless. This time, my soul is still, and I am grateful for the beauty of this morning, for this gift of whitespace, this gift of companionship, for this moment of intimacy.

In this moment I am content, grateful for this life.

I have stilled and quieted my soul. And I breathe life again.

But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content. ~ Psalm 131:2