Get out of my way! I'm trying to be perfect!

Stressed out!

I suffer from this rather annoying condition. I want to do everything I want to do all at once. I want to be the greatest mother ever, I want to write that fabulous novel, I want to be a brilliant researcher and academic and I want to be the most bendy, peaceful yogi on the planet. All whilst running a harmonious home, eating right, doing my taxes and finding the right school for my son.

I want it all to be right, right now. I want to get it right, keep all the balls in the air, never let anyone down and be acknowledged for the effortless way I make it all happen. All this is in fact the symptom rather than the condition. The condition is something all the more horrible.

I want to be perfect. Oh the horror! What a terrible malaise to live with! What a shocking drain it is on not only me, but on all those I love and want to be oh so perfect for! For, of course, the reality is that when I drop even one or ten or all of those balls I'm trying to keep up in the outer atmosphere, I get angry. Sure, angry with myself, but then inevitably with those closest around me. Couldn't they see how hard I was working for them? Couldn't they have been more supportive in my quest to make everything right ALL THE TIME? Why did they let me get to this point? Why did they expect so much from me?!!!

Of course, you already know this one. They, being the long-suffering members of my family, and even my friends and colleagues, don't want perfection. They might want me to do my job, and be friendly, and not yell at them, but they have never used the word perfect, not once. In fact, I have it on good authority that my lovely, supportive, funny partner just wants me to be happy.

Much better

So what is the source of this stultifying condition? Oh, that's right. That would be me. I am the root cause of my own miserable pursuit of getting it right all the time for everyone. And that means being the most successful version of myself right this minute. I have so many things I want to do and be and see and feel that sometimes, often, I squash the life out of all the potential with anxiety and stress and rage that I am not there yet. Maybe if I was a little more perfect, maybe if I could tick one more thing of my to-do list I'd be that much closer to the version of me I think I must be.

Even now I can feel myself on the brink of one of those melt downs that are the release valve for all the stress building up inside of me. But this time I don't want to go there. Instead I am writing to you. I am writing to me and doing this thing called writing that I love more than Christmas. And slowly I can feel my body exhaling and my mind returning to this moment now. This time I won't get it all done, and I'll need o ask for help, and I'll have to shift some deadlines. And I think it's going to be all ok. Not perfect, but not that bad at all.