Letting Go of Perfect
If this blog doesn’t become a best selling book, then what’s the point?
(small self talking)
But you love writing.
(says Big Self)
Just do it!
(Big Self urges)
But it has to be PERFECT!
(small self pouts)
LET GO OF PERFECT!!!!!!!!!
(screams BIG SELF)
If only it were as easy as that. It seems I was born hard-wired for perfect. Not born perfect (but aren’t we all born perfectly imperfect blah blah blah) but born with this innate drive TO BE PERFECT.
It didn’t come from my parents. They were loving and supportive. It came, it seems, from my DNA.
Must be the best. Must win. And, most importantly, DO NOT FAIL.
I know you know what I mean.
Like in kindergarten when I just KNEW I was going to win the relay race for my team because I had beaten the boy I was up against time and again and I could taste victory before it was even my turn. As I waited for my teammate to reach me, however, I followed the fantasy of winning for my team and how great it was going to feel to be the GIRL that won against one of the fastest BOYS. I was so deep in the fantasy of winning that I spaced out and missed my turn. Those few seconds of lead time, I was sure, were going to be my demise.
So you know what I did?
I quit.
Instead of digging deep for fire and resiliency, I quit. And not only did I quit, I made up a huge lie about why I HAD to quit. A dramatic tale of grief and loss for a fictitious grandmother who lay dying in the hospital. Blatant, ass-covering lie.
Instead of trying harder and possibly making up the few seconds of lost time, in the face of the possibility of not winning, I quit.
Ok. I was only five years old. The stakes were low in the grand scheme of it all. And now, several decades later, I have had enough of life’s messiness and hardship to know that failure can often be where we grow the most. Usually is. But something about that day, that moment in 1975 in the recess yard, is indelibly etched in my mind to the last detail.
It’s pretty easy to be graceful and humble when we win. But what about when we lose? Or when things don’t pan out the way we want?
What is that amazing Muhammed Ali quote? “There’s nothing wrong with getting knocked down, as long as you get right back up.”
Five year old me, fifteen year old me, twenty-six year old me never got that memo. I had to fall hard, SUPER HARD, to get that one
The greatest teaching moment of my life came when I (and I can still hardly even type these words) FAILED THE BAR EXAM.
Holy shit. I wrote those words down and am still standing to tell the tale.
Yep, my greatest life moment came when I failed that exam the first time I tried to take it. Okay, maybe not the exact moment. But that “failure” set off a domino effect of a series of choices, some super shitty, and then, ultimately some super brave, that altered my life forever and for the best.
That story for another time. It’s long and tragic and messy.
But had that failure not happened, had I passed that test, I have no doubt that my life would not be the extraordinary, super amazing one it is today. I may have ended up hovering between hanging onto mediocrity and perfection.
Hanging between mediocrity and perfection. EWWWWW.
A recovering person’s version of purgatory.
Which brings me to this moment. This blog.
If it’s not a book, why write at all? If it’s not a perfectly scribed, ready for publishing book, why even bother?
Ugh (to quote my teenage daughters). Seriously? Am I still here?
So I rage against the machine of my hardwiring, nature v nurture internal drive, and I sit down to write. Every day for 30 days in a row. Inspired by my bestie, Laura Conley, whom I have watched day after day these past many weeks, sit down and write. Even if it’s late. Even if she’s tired. She just decided to do it, and she did it. Simple.
No excuses.
The guess work and negotiating are no longer on the table.
So here we go. Letting go of perfect.
Day 1 of 30 days in a row of writing.
