can i tell you a secret?

like a really big one? one that ive been repressing for decades, maybe even my entire life in full?

i am a really huge enormous perfectionist. like the worst kid. the competitive kind. the obsessive kind. the kind that doesnt think something is worth doing unless it is the very tip top bestest in the entire municipality, region, maybe even entire continental united states. its really kind of disgusting.

i always knew this about things that were important, like church and school and doing good and beautiful things in art and writing and whatever else seemed to creep along. but as i have become a married woman with things to do like decorating houses and picking out wedding dresses and picking out pants for my husband, ive realized i am also a perfectionist in the unimportant things too. which kind of sucks, and which kind of disproves the notion ive always had of myself that im on a crusade to save the world and the trivial is far beneath me, left for those who watch the bachelor for real. because of course, i only watch it for fake.

the point: i think sometimes we think being a perfectionist is like a good bad thing, like how you answer that question in interviews about your weakness with "i work too hard", which we all know is really a good thing and another way of saying, i am the best candidate for this job. but perfectionism, even though its the best answer to the weakness interview question and you should continue using that answer as a means to secure stable employment in this deep dark time of recession, is not a good thing. its not good because it is a competition, because perfectionism stems from comparison and comparison belittles and degrades the uniqueness of each individual soul here on green earth.

and every day i become more and more aware that no matter how much i want it or no matter how much i pretend not to want it, i will never be the girl who is perfect. perfect looking, perfect clothing, perfect bod, perfect looking house. [mine is still left undecorated with no hand soap 2 months after moving here]. and i dont want to be that person, because that means the pursuit of being perfect has become my life, and i dont want my life to be about that. i really, really dont, not even a little bit. and i really dont want to think that table lamps or perfectly cooked meals are more important than bluebirds and sunshine and doing really really nice things, because even though we all seem to care about the table lamp things more than we'd care to admit, im pretty sure when life is over no one will mention your table lamps at your funeral. and really, would you want them to?

they always say the first step in overcoming an addiction is admitting you have a problem right? so here is me admitting it over the worldwideweb for the eyes of no one because i havent written on this blog in 15 years or so. but to anyone who stumbles upon this, i want you to know that im glad you are you in all of your imperfections, and im working on loving mine. im working on remembering every day that the perfect people that are all around me arent perfect, and that life is not a venn diagram, its the opposite. which is..im not sure what. a big lovefest where everyone wins? an enormous hug? i really hope so. im working on remembering perfectionism isnt a bad thing thats really good, its not a security blanket to secretly hold next to my heart and pretend like i dont like it even though i cling to it as part of my identity. im working on remembering its just a bad thing, plain and simple, because it means i am focused on ME instead of all of the people that are more important than that. im working on remembering that trivial things are trivial because they are trivial, not because they are secretly indicators of how on top of life you are. im working on remembering there are like three, maybe four things that are really worth being invested in in life, and none of them involve knick knacks or really cute boots. im working on it.

im working on it because one day, after a long happy life of very badly cooked meals and disasters in everything domestic, i want to be able to remember all of the nice, nice things i did for other people. i want to be okay with times when i felt fat or didnt have nice outfits or sat behind a girl that was a whole lot prettier than i was. i want to be unable to remember if my hair looked good or not. i want to only remember days filled with a lot of nonjealousy and noncompetition and a lot of happiness for other people and thoughts about haiti and service and really good books.

and one day when this life is over, maybe tomorrow or the next or 100 years from now, i want people at my funeral to say i was compassionate, kind, loving, huggy, generous, an embracer of life. i dont want anyone to say i was a perfectionist or kept an immaculate house. i want them to remember me as someone who blew past the trivial without giving it a second thought, someone who spent all of her precious energy and time and money on things that really mattered, like telling people they are really, really great and laughing with her mouth wide open.