I am a recovering perfectionist. The perfectionist in me is irritated that I’m still recovering and not yet cured. It’s hard to let go of being perfect.
I’ve concluded universal perfection is a myth. Perfection exists in the eye of the beholder. The problem is even when you obtain what you consider perfection – someone else will tell you that it’s not. Some of us – including me – will believe they are right and hang our once proud heads in defeat. Someone else did it better.
This proves one major flaw in perfectionism – who decides what’s perfect? But I think there is an even greater flaw. Most people’s pursuit of perfectionism is done to please others.
I finally stopped (or mostly stopped) pursuing perfection when I realized I was doing it to make other people happy. It’s not wrong to do things to make others happy, but it’s not right to do it at the mercy of your own happiness.
Sure, I’m still going to make my bed the next time my parents visit, so we can all pretend I do it every day like my mom taught me. Even though I’m pretty sure the last time made my bed was when they last visited… two years ago. Sorry mom.
And I’m going to continue to embrace perfectly imperfect me.
P.S. Before you accuse me of being a bad daughter, I’ve seen my parents several times in the past two years. I’m just more comfortable hopping on a plane to see them, whereas they don’t love flying.
P.S.S. I may not make my bed every day. Or any day. But I do wash my sheets, thank you very much. Yeesh.