search
top

A Choice Between Perfectionism Or Doing Your Best

I have recently felt an internal shift from all-out perfectionism to just trying for my best. “Doing” used to essentially be how I valued myself. I was a human doing. And there was never enough doing I could do to fulfill the undefined expectations I had about being done. Fear and perfection were my guidelines for living. Industrial Over-focused was my coping mechanism for the fear.

I was a human doing.

As I peeled back layer upon layer, I ousted the lies that were my fears and began to understand that in the grander scheme of things, sometimes just doing something, anything, could thwart the desperate feelings of perfection and fear. I noticed that if I made one effortful action toward my goals, it was a huge hopeful relief. Like taking that first half-hour walk to start an exercise routine. Or starting an art project. Or calling someone I’d put off calling. The effort felt like hope.Perfectionism or doing your best on Shalavee.com

Perfectionism is insidious. The bar will continually raise and there will never be enough doing. If the goals are undefined, the results are never enough. Add on the doubt that your best will never be good enough and you’re not only a hamster on a wheel, but you are sinking in quicksand at the same time.

But what if we were to have a little faith in our efforts. No, my abilities may never match others in gardening or graphic design. Ever. But what if I did my best and let go of the rest including the perfection. What I realized is that I can applaud myself for making an effort and usually people see that effort and not as much the results. It’s a faith gesture but it’s also permission to be kind to yourself. To credit yourself with the intention to get better. Because you won’t become better, or even the best, unless you keep doing that thing over and over and over.Perfectionism or doing your best on Shalavee.com

I have let the medium be my message and made sure I went forth with a simple vision in mind. Sometimes the effort of hanging a few decorations in the right scale makes a huge impact. Sometimes posting a few powerful words says way more than pages and pages that won’t be read. And sometimes giving ourselves the space and the credit to begin can move us on in profound ways. I am proof that progress is there but for the effort.

And that perfectionism is a crappy cowardly roadblock to a more beautiful and easier way of living. We just need to get out of our own ways and onto proving it.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Save

Breaking the Pattern of the Body Fix

It’s a thing, this pattern of not enough, of body fix. I hate my bloated belly. I can’t lose the weight. Even when I did, it wasn’t enough. An addiction to self-hatred is what I say. The no compromise standards that keep us right on the other side of the fence of liking ourselves as who we are now. And I’m feeling a weird choked battle cry of “Enough” coming from deep inside.

For a very long time, I have not gauged my worth by my body. My distended or pregnant or redundant colon bloated belly is not what other people judge me as being worthy by. Except, I can not bear to wear half my wardrobe lest my bloated belly show. And the pieces I will possibly grab for just dwindled to a handful when I gained back my weight. I was so triumphant a year ago having lost the ten pounds. And then I found myself right back at the beginning again.Breaking the Pattern of the Body Fix on Shalavee.com

I thought, perhaps I need to sit and watch any crowd and count how many women have a belly. Or I need to peruse some Glamour magazines to quickly sicken myself with the disease of picture perfection in the media and then inspire my rebellion to wear belly shirts. Or maybe I need to sit in front of the mirror and make sure I tell myself about my worth as not being about my body. Any and all these methods could be invoked to remind me that I am loved and lovable wherever and however I am.

Bottom line is that this self-hatred and self-bullying which has me and many others wanting to always fix ourselves can never end well. As long as there’s something to “fix”, it implies brokenness. And I do not want to model this for my buxom red-headed daughter. She’ll have to fight it from the world as it is.Breaking the Pattern of the Body Fix on Shalavee.com

The fact is I’m mortified by the loss of collagen in my body more than anything. But mostly, I know I shouldn’t be having this conversation AGAIN. Haven’t I already learned this lesson? How to do our best and let go of the rest. Forgive our flesh.

I need all your good thoughts and helpful suggestions. And am always up for your stories.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

That I Matter is a Matter of Fact

Such a search my life has been to find my form in the reflections I catch. I was invisible for so many years. And it occurred to me that we matter to our people as children and that makes us matter to ourselves. That our existence is a given and necessary to our family worlds as children to expand our confidence of purpose into the larger world. Except when that doesn’t happen.

I struggled to pretend I mattered for a very long time. I had purpose in the survival of the struggle but I did not consider my existence important to the world. I drowned in my fears and sorrows and probably didn’t have much to give anyway. My worthlessness was what I understood of my existence. The void where I should have mattered was very very raw. My mirror image was missing.

But then I had children. And realized that my attention to them was how they know they matter. And I recognized that my invisibility could only serve to teach to them the same and so I’ve struggled to be someone they see themselves in and not a shadow. I stand up to their demands and prioritize myself so that they may see what mattering means. I stay in the moment even when I’d rather be somewhere else. Because I need them to know they matter.

That I Matter is a Matter of Fact on Shalavee.com

Had these lyrics in my head from the General Public song, A Matter of Fact from the All The Rage album released in 1984 (I was 18) .

As a Matter of Fact by General Public

Someone’s been lying in my bed
Roses to start with
But now nothing in the garden grows
It’s all the same yes
But it’s not the person I know
No no no
Roses to start with
But as a matter of fact
It’s no more than an act

What’s the matter
What’s the matter
As a matter of fact?
Matter of fact
Hopping mad it’s as simple as that

What’s the matter
What’s the matter
As a matter of fact?
Matter of fact?

It’s a matter of order
It’s a matter of class
First to get told
Are the last to get asked
Just mind your ass
When the buck gets passed
Mind over matter
As a matter of fact
It’s a matter of class
As a matter of fact
The cards are stacked

 

 

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest  too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

« Previous Entries Next Entries »

top