We discussed perfectionism in one of my online home education groups recently. I was able to contribute to the conversation, because perfectionism has definitely stopped me in my tracks on more than one occasion. I was convinced that it was all behind me, though. I was sure I had killed that cad, figured I had banished him from life, thought that when I long ago told him to hit the road, he had actually up and left.
Apparently, I was wrong. I catch glimpses of his ghost every now and again. And I feel chagrined. Who did I think I was? Immune to Perfectionism and his charming ways? I’m no better than the other women he’s seduced.
But I want to be. I want to get back on the wagon and stay there. I want to be the one who succeeds where others fail.
I’ve put up a good defense and have held my ground on many occasions: Thanksgiving, for instance. A turkey that’s edible, a few mashed potatoes and the jellied cranberry sauce Luke loves are all I now need to call the day a success. In the past, the big day wasn’t good enough if there were no homemade dinner rolls, the pumpkin pie was less than perfect and the gravy had lumps.
Now, in the year 2013, it’s time to go on the offensive. I’ll attack Mr. Perfectionism and make sure he never shows that handsome, chiseled profile around here again. In fact, I’ve already made my first tactical move. Last month, I started a Smash Book. A few months before that, an art journal. Know what they have in common? Chaos. In both cases, I pick a page at random and start pasting and writing and plain ‘ole creating. Chronological order? Don’t make me laugh! Perfectly coordinated elements on a page? Ha ha! One page dedicated to one subject? Yeah, right! Cohesiveness? Flow? Any sort of sense? Not in a million years!
Hey, Perfect Pete! Don’t let the door hit you in th — ooh, too late!