Perfectionism Rears its UGLY Head
I hear from a lot of women that they feel they are a "Perfectionist" and it’s said in smug sort of way that indicates they feel it to be a most superior virtue. I’ve heard all the variations of it, my towels have to be folded a certain way, or only *I* can load the dishwasher the right way, or even a right way to vacuum so that the marks in the carpet go exactly the right way. Or even I can’t go to sleep unless my kitchen is spotless or all my shoes are put away.
I know these people think they are doing a good thing and God bless them – or as they say in the South “Bless their little hearts”. But I’d like to present a differing opinion on perfectionism. It has a cost and most people don’t ever realize it.
I’m all for doing a good job and you certainly want to try your best when you are doing a task, but to declare that there is a right way to do something that only you know, or to set yourself up as the authority for all things linen closet- related is actually a form of bullying behavior.
You are saying that it’s” Your Way or the Highway”, both to yourself and to the people who live with you and that can only lead to resentment, unnecessary stress, and hard feelings on both sides. You feel the pressure to live up to your standards, even if it isn’t convenient for you. You must clean that kitchen to that perfect standard every night, even if you are exhausted, because if you don’t you’ll feel like a failure.
And you are spending your precious, irreplaceable time with “objects” rather than people. A friend of mine at work said his wife was such a perfectionist that she vacuumed three times a day. And all I could think of was his three young children sitting on the couch holding their feet up so this crazy lady they called Mommy could run around freaking out about a stupid carpet! No time to play today kids, I've got a carpet that needs cleaning...
And heaven help the family member who offers to help you. You’ll likely end up hurting their feelings by redoing the work, either right in front of them with a few scathing comments, or later on when you notice it isn’t up to your standards. Then you feel put upon because you end up doing most of the work and no one wants to help. It’s just a never-ending cycle.
Case in point, my Mother-in-law was a perfectionist and proud of it. And she did keep a very nice house. It was always nice and tidy and when she died, she left behind a houseful of unmarred white furniture and scratch-free tables and chairs. But she also left behind a lot of resentment and bad feelings. During the twenty or so years she was my MIL, I’m sure she did lots of nice things for me, but those aren’t the things I remember about her.
Instead I remember her yelling at me for not squashing down a milk carton before I put it into the trash, or grouching about my toddler leaving finger prints on her windows, or being cranky and nervous when the grandkids were around because they would leave toys around or touch her white furniture with sticky fingers. I remember being rebuffed if I would offer to load the dishwasher or help with the cooking, but then being criticized because I never helped.
It’s funny – when we had our first house, I cleaned like a tornado for my first mother-in-law visit. I was so nervous and sure enough, she started criticizing me the moment she hit the door and picked out things I had never even thought to notice. I was crushed. But a few weeks later, her older sister stopped by for a visit and even though the house wasn’t nearly as clean, she had nothing but heart-felt compliments for us. I think in a lot of ways, we loved my husband’s sweet-natured aunt a lot more than we did his sour-tongued mother.
So, what is YOUR perfectionism costing you? Have you ever thought about how your husband or children feel when you push them away or criticize when they offer to help? How do you want to be remembered?
Remember those perfect, unscratched tables my MIL left behind? They are in my family room now and my husband takes great delight in putting his feet on them, or leaving rings on them or seeing the scratches on them. It’s his way of telling her that those things just didn’t matter, but the people in her life did and she was just too blind to see it.
What is driving this almost compulsive need for perfection? Listen closely to the voice in your head. Is it a mother, a grandmother, or an overly harsh teacher? Is it just a feeling that you aren’t good enough – because you are, I’m sure of it. We’re all basically good people with a few small faults. Is it a way to control one thing in your life because you can’t control other things? Do you feel like there is going to be a special gold plaque for you in heaven because you kept the most perfectly organized silverware drawer on the block? Because I’m pretty sure there isn’t.
You probably haven’t ever tried, because you probably thought it was a good thing, but have you ever tried to overcome it? I challenge you to give it a try. Think about the one area that is your absolute must-have perfect area, whether it’s your closet (my brother-in-law hangs all his shirts organized by color, on hangers exactly ½” apart – sheesh!), or your pantry, or your linen closet.
Now go and grit your teeth and deliberately mess it up. Go ahead, go do it now. Just mess it all up and then shut the door and walk away. It will probably trigger a panic attack or at least a feeling of extreme uneasiness. But just wait it out and keep repeating to yourself – it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Resist all urges to fix it or to apologize to people about it. No one cares but you. Seriously.
Just let it be for a couple of days and soon I think you’ll find that it really doesn’t matter. It’s a silly thing floating around in your head is all. It’s just a linen closet for heaven’s sake! No one in this universe, other than your crazy (mother, aunt, mother-in-law, or your overly compulsive friend) cares what you do in the privacy of your own linen closet.
Now breathe and go make some fun memories with your family. Go have some ice cream, take a nature walk, or go jump on the trampoline with them. Maybe throw in a round of Monopoly or miniature golf. Those are the memories you want them to have of you twenty years from now, not the Joan Crawford and the wire hanger type….
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