Hi, my name is Jolie and I’m a recovering perfectionist.
I have OCD and ADD, which means everything has to be perfect, but not for very long.
I will sneak into your living room and line up the pillows on your couch.
I will rewrite a sentence until it begs for mercy.
And I will definitely have some great ideas on how to organize a pantry.
If there’s one thing I love, is being
bossy highly opinionated full of great ideas.
January is my achilles heel. I look at the rest of the months and I’m ready to make my lists of great ideas.
Self improvement. Home improvement. Be a better mom. Be a better Christian. Be a better wife. The month explodes with resolutions, challenges, goal setting, and trend setting.
I’m usually too busy starting things to finish things.
“Yes!” I cry, “I can do it all! I will finally stop being so darn lazy and inadequate!”
All I have to do is apply more mascara, lose five pounds, get up an hour earlier, have sparkling grout in the shower, meditate daily, call my mother….
Perfection will always lean on the doorbell.
Pour a cup of tea and sit with me for a minute.
I have learned to let it go.
Honey, a lifetime of fighting the uphill battle between a clean house and five kids should have taught me that. You will never call me a quitter.
But it was leaving the house and the kids that proved to me “letting go” was an option.
Did you catch that one thing I just said? The lie? The bit that snuck in here and acted like it belongs?
It was the
whisper scream: “I will finally stop being inadequate”.
THIS is what I “let go”.
Believe me when I tell you I can be (if I wanted to) lazy, but the guilt of inadequacy drives a lot of us right off the deep end.
I should have folded laundry in drawers, not under the table in heaps.
My family should be prepared and cheerful on Sunday mornings, not filled with “Hurry!” or “Find your shoe…why do you only own ONE shoe?” or “I don’t care what you just put in the toilet, we’re leaving NOW”.
My marriage should be romantic get-aways and nurturing conversations, not stale chips on the couch, binge-watching Psych.
But it all happened and surprise! Not only was I not suddenly inadequate, but I was handed the key:
You are good enough right here right now. Even with one shoe missing. Deeply loved. Just for sitting there.
Let that just sink in like a baking soda paste for a moment.
What happened – in my quest to have and do everything I thought I needed to be a good wife, mother, human – was the recognition that I already had it. All along.
My self of ten years ago would laugh herself silly over this revelation and continue scrubbing the grout without skipping a beat.
And so I release you to discover these things as well, if you dare. I let (because I have this choice) my kids choose, cook, serve, and clean up many meals now. They boil frozen hotdogs, serve them on bread with a side veggie of ketchup, and tell me all about their day. I sit there exhausted and deliriously happy to see their faces and hear their chatter and not once question why my socks stick to the floor.
I look around and I am just so grateful. Over and over and over.
I’m getting rather good at it, because practice makes perfect…er, good enough.