I sometimes think I’ve kicked perfectionism to the curb. It proves me wrong time and time again. An assumption is made; a miscommunication occurs; a cataclysm ensues—at least, it seems that way.
I worry and obsess. What could I have done? What should I have done? How could I make such a fatal error?
The thoughts rage until I feel like the worst person alive on the planet, a miserable failure and cretin, a lost cause. A bit of sanity appears: I’m human. I was doing my best and failed. Move on. It’s not the end of the world. (Be quiet, perfectionism.)
Another clearheaded thought: my standards are unrealistic. Miscommunication happens. I should do my best to be clear, but misunderstandings always develop when two people are involved. They assume one thing; I assume another. Presto! Confusion, mistakes, and hurt feelings all around.
Another idea: the turmoil surrounding my mistakes most often arises from a desperate and misguided attempt to control all the variables. It’s impossible. This past year proves it. I spent it learning to let go, to trust, to believe that God controls all things and will take care of me.
That truth stands no matter how many assumptions or mistakes I make. I just forget it in the middle of my obsessive state, in thinking I should be perfect all the time. Let’s face facts and be real here: I’m human, and humans, even ones of the perfectionist variety, blunder. When they do, they need to make reparations where necessary and move on because God, not they, is in control of everything, including the mistakes and failures.
Image: Art DiNo (Creative Commons)
[…] is all about control, which becomes a scary, scary thing as a person who battles perfectionism. It also runs counter to faith. I experience a daily tension between trust and control, […]