measuring worth

There I was, nervously staring at the laptop screen behind my locked bedroom door, trying to verbalize to this lovely therapist that I needed to know what my purpose in life was. (let's call my therapist Edna because that is Mrs. Garrett's first name from the Facts of Life and I always wanted a Mrs. Garrett for myself.  I hope you are picking up on the fact that 80's TV sitcoms were highly impactful in my development)  I needed to have a path, a goal, or at least a general direction to my life.  I wanted to give back to the universe in some way that could leave a positive impact and give my life meaning.  After quite a bit of discussion, Edna responded with the obvious observation that I was experiencing quite a bit of anxiety and discomfort about all of this.  (Internally I was thinking, no way I am super chill right now! But I also have the reputation of being an open book that can't hide my feelings so I digress)  And then she asked me WHY.  

Why did I need to know right now what I should be?  Or what I should do? Why did I feel as if I was worthless unless I was accomplishing something-- making to-do lists and checking them off?  There were things. Lots of things: 

-Lists for maintaining my house

-Things to do for kids and husband

-Lists of to-do's for friends

-Things I should be doing to maintain my health

-More lists for making myself well rounded (practice guitar! run a marathon! learn to sew!)

And now I needed a list for what purpose my life would have, along with bullet point markers along the way and steps to reach it.  Seemed like such a good plan! I was living just as Leslie Knope, my favorite character from the very popular Parks and Rec was when she said, "Slowing down is not really my jam".  All of those things above, in and of themselves, are wonderful parts of life that I would like to continue to maintain and experience.  It's wonderful to be a good mother, homemaker friend, etc.  The problem, of course, lies in the measurement of my value as a human that I was attaching to these things

*House not kept to a certain level of cleanliness and order?  - failing as a homemaker, total slob

*Leaving the kids to go out of town too much? - selfish mother who only cares about herself

*Not having time to make thoughtful gift for best gals birthday? - failing at being a good friend

*Only working out 3-4 days a week instead of 6 and having a drink of alcohol during the week (gasp)? - soon to be a 300 lb alcoholic loser

*Being too tired to practice my guitar lessons today? - I fail at everything new I try

I think you can see where I'm going with this.  I had all these sets of rules put into place in my head that measured how well I was doing at "being a human".  Do we get grades for that?  Because I'd like my gold stars now thanks!  Striving for perfectionism is what I knew.  It's all I had ever known.  Perfection was always the goal yet never attainable.  An endless hamster wheel of exhaustion, self judgement and repetition.  And I'm not sure how you feel about hamster wheels but that shit is sad.  I mean, at least give them a little mini TV screen that gives them the appearance they are at least going somewhere! (I know very little about hamster biology and socialization so those of you who know better feel free to set me straight if necessary).  

As much as I was preaching self love and embracing imperfection to my children and friends and husband and clients: "be yourself there's no one else like you!", "flaws are what make us whole!", "everyone makes mistakes!", "beauty is on the inside and don't let anyone else tell you what that is!".  But, as it turns out, I was not giving myself permission to apply those things personally.  This came as a huge surprise to me!  Through a series of sessions, Edna had macheted her way through the jungle of my brain and my heart to reveal these distorted thought patterns that had been present as far back as I can remember.  I've never had a dream of walking into school naked without realizing it, only to be pointed and laughed at by all the other kids.  But I imagine it felt a lot like this moment. The shock and embarrassment was real.  

I've recently been reading a beautiful book by Elizabeth Gilbert about creative living beyond fear.  Besides wanting to live with more openness and inspiration in my life, the concepts she speaks about apply directly to the idea of living without perfectionism or fear of failure.  She explains, "Perfectionism is just a high-end, haute couture version of fear. Perfection is just fear in fancy shoes and a mink coat, pretending to be elegant when actually it’s just terrified. Because underneath that shiny veneer, perfectionism is nothing more than a deep existential angst that says, again and again, “I am not good enough and I will never be good enough.”

Well, I don't like high-end clothes and posing as a fancy girl anyway.  I'd much rather wear my leggings and tank top and baseball hat for the rest of my life so as not to have to do my hair or use a zipper.  So facing fear it was then!  Sounds like so much fun.  

Now I just had to figure out how to do it.