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Published On: Aug 25, 2004 09:37 PM
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Aug 25, 2004 09:37 PM
Insidious Perfectionism
This reality business can be so darn
hard!
I hate that it has been two weeks since I have
had a chance to write an entry, I hate that everything I have written isn't
witty and wise and filled with insight that makes you sigh "yes, it is good to
be alive." In fact, I hate that I am mostly patient and empathetic with my
children but sometimes I'm just irritable and mean, I hate that my house is
usually mostly clean but that there are spots under furniture that never seem to
get clean, where dust foxes chase the dust bunnies, windows with fingerprints,
and that, frankly, when you share a bathroom with four and six year old boys
it's just nice to keep a container of those disposable antibacterial wipes on
the back of the toilet. I hate that I mostly eat healthy but then a couple of
days may go by when the existence of vegetables is hypothetical at best. In
fact there isn't a single thing that I can say with any confidence I do
perfectly, and that includes all of the things that are important to
me.
There is a story about when I was learning to ride a bike, perhaps apocryphal, that I wanted to ride it perfectly or not at all. Now, this makes sense, since to ride a bike imperfectly is more or less to keep the bandaid company in business, but I didn't like having a grown up help, running along pushing, and was early manifesting not just perfectionism but a certain stubbornness and, somehow by pushing off and falling over again and again, determination stronger than my conviction that I was absolutely losing face doing it. One of the many spiritual obstacles I've wrestled with is an absolutism, wanting to be saint or sinner, but really not being comfortable as a struggling believer, doing her best even when it was nowhere near perfect, getting back on the bike and pushing off again.
I guess it's clearer to me now that that particular form of perfectionism was an unabated egotism. Just as I can see a difference in Aodán's behavior when he's trying to impress me with how good he is being as opposed to when he's really concerned about the needs and feelings of one of his brothers, worrying about what sort of Bahá'í I am is still thinking about myself and dwelling in some place other than my love for the beauty at the center of my religion. And in mothering there just isn't room for the all or nothing approach.
I went to a postnatal yoga class today with Soren. I left the boys at their Bahá'í day camp and fought traffic to get to the class five minutes late (and yes, I'm pretty sure I hate being late because it makes it obvious to me I am not in control and it's wrong and potentially embarrassing and it's not really about concern for inconveniencing others...) And having not had the best night's sleep, and having hit every red light, and having not been greeted warmly by somebody when I was dropping off the boys, I walked into class a little grumpy. And Søren, after the breathing and centering exercises, decided he had to nurse and be in my lap, and my usual attitude of taking what I can and being grateful for that just dissolved. I really would have preferred a nice kickboxing class to yoga, would have enjoyed pummeling a bolster instead of trying to relax into it.
But learning to breathe through the discomfort isn't about putting your body through ever-more painful contortions, I guess. I played the relativity game, reminding myself that what had been a pretty mediocre morning contained things to be grateful for -- happy, healthy, attached children, a chance to go to yoga -- like the bumper sticker "A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work", a bad morning at yoga is still a good morning, my own health and absence of any real complaints. It's a curse of the human condition to need pain in order to appreciate the absence of pain. And my grumpiness was a little useful in telling me some things I need to adjust in my life -- practice at loving my body as it is, a more reasonable bedtime, an effort to greet people more warmly and create the atmosphere I'd like to experience.
I'm willing to accept that I won't beat my perfectionism all at once. I worry about transmitting it to the kids -- Aodán in particular has a tendency to be critical of himself and frustrated when something he is working on doesn't turn out the way he want it to, but I am proud that some early lesson in turning a mistake into part of a drawing did sink in. And maybe having an imperfect parent who is willing to admit to the imperfections and struggle to do things a little better is not the worst thing that could happen to a kid.
There is a story about when I was learning to ride a bike, perhaps apocryphal, that I wanted to ride it perfectly or not at all. Now, this makes sense, since to ride a bike imperfectly is more or less to keep the bandaid company in business, but I didn't like having a grown up help, running along pushing, and was early manifesting not just perfectionism but a certain stubbornness and, somehow by pushing off and falling over again and again, determination stronger than my conviction that I was absolutely losing face doing it. One of the many spiritual obstacles I've wrestled with is an absolutism, wanting to be saint or sinner, but really not being comfortable as a struggling believer, doing her best even when it was nowhere near perfect, getting back on the bike and pushing off again.
I guess it's clearer to me now that that particular form of perfectionism was an unabated egotism. Just as I can see a difference in Aodán's behavior when he's trying to impress me with how good he is being as opposed to when he's really concerned about the needs and feelings of one of his brothers, worrying about what sort of Bahá'í I am is still thinking about myself and dwelling in some place other than my love for the beauty at the center of my religion. And in mothering there just isn't room for the all or nothing approach.
I went to a postnatal yoga class today with Soren. I left the boys at their Bahá'í day camp and fought traffic to get to the class five minutes late (and yes, I'm pretty sure I hate being late because it makes it obvious to me I am not in control and it's wrong and potentially embarrassing and it's not really about concern for inconveniencing others...) And having not had the best night's sleep, and having hit every red light, and having not been greeted warmly by somebody when I was dropping off the boys, I walked into class a little grumpy. And Søren, after the breathing and centering exercises, decided he had to nurse and be in my lap, and my usual attitude of taking what I can and being grateful for that just dissolved. I really would have preferred a nice kickboxing class to yoga, would have enjoyed pummeling a bolster instead of trying to relax into it.
But learning to breathe through the discomfort isn't about putting your body through ever-more painful contortions, I guess. I played the relativity game, reminding myself that what had been a pretty mediocre morning contained things to be grateful for -- happy, healthy, attached children, a chance to go to yoga -- like the bumper sticker "A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work", a bad morning at yoga is still a good morning, my own health and absence of any real complaints. It's a curse of the human condition to need pain in order to appreciate the absence of pain. And my grumpiness was a little useful in telling me some things I need to adjust in my life -- practice at loving my body as it is, a more reasonable bedtime, an effort to greet people more warmly and create the atmosphere I'd like to experience.
I'm willing to accept that I won't beat my perfectionism all at once. I worry about transmitting it to the kids -- Aodán in particular has a tendency to be critical of himself and frustrated when something he is working on doesn't turn out the way he want it to, but I am proud that some early lesson in turning a mistake into part of a drawing did sink in. And maybe having an imperfect parent who is willing to admit to the imperfections and struggle to do things a little better is not the worst thing that could happen to a kid.
Posted: Wed - July 23, 2003 at 03:31 PM