This morning I sat down in a
suffocating cozy waiting room for an oil change. I finished this post on my iPhone and hit publish…only to realize half of my writing disappeared. The perfectionist in me wailed. Ironic, because this post is about how perfectionism isn’t perfect. Life has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?
In order to get my oil changed fast I have to be one of the first people here…at 7:30am. Why? Because we currently live in a small town and apparently everyone uses the same shop. Also, we’re not gonna talk about how the oil’s life is down to 30%. We’re also not gonna talk about how if left up to my husband, that number will be as close to 0% as possible before the oil is changed.
We’re not gonna talk about that.
Yesterday my mind just wandered all over the place. That’s what happens when I’m brainstorming up a blog post. It’s actually similar to when I was teaching and lesson planning. The
weirdest best ideas pop into your head when you’re walking through the supermarket aisles. I don’t know about you, but for me that happens in the produce section. Maybe it’s because of those hot Liquid Plumbr guys fondling arranging the cantaloupes? Anyway, the produce section got me thinking about perfectionists.
Even as a child I was a perfectionist. I needed, like NEEDED a gold star on my homework every day in the first grade. If I didn’t get a gold star, I’d be so upset. One would argue this 8-year-old was a nerd. That’s probably my husband arguing that. It never gets old for him.
I was also self-conscious. The smallest, teasing comment would make me upset…even if the person never meant any harm. In hindsight, I know now it wasn’t due to insecurity. I grew up in a loving household, but the micro-culture surrounding me wasn’t the most positive. But that’s a story for another time.
Sometimes being a perfectionist is a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing for when I’m learning new music. It’s a curse when I’m become discouraged, because I just give up. The perfectionist in me figures, why try if I’m going to fail or circumstances are out of my control?
I’m still a perfectionist…I’m just not a Type A. I’m more like a Type B or a Type C. If you’re confused, don’t worry. I just confused myself.
So, all in all I guess I’m not a perfect perfectionist, and I’m okay with that.