Day Eleven

Perfect. The thing that holds me back. It's unattainable, yet I strive for it daily. I want so badly for things to be perfect. Why does it seem like everyone else has achieved it? Comparison. Another thing that holds me back...

I clean my house. I clean it again. Again. But it never stays clean. The harder I try to keep everything in it's place; the carpet vacuumed, the dishes put away, the laundry folded...the more I notice the things out of place, the popcorn kernel on the carpet, the glass emptied and left on the table, the clothes worn and then thrown on the floor. When did I lose control? Why do my kids not see that I spend so much time trying to keep things in order and they so thoughtlessly treat me like the hired help? I should have started when they were little, teaching them to put things away on their own. I should have set the boundaries on how to treat their mother. Instead I cleaned their rooms, I picked up their wrappers, I washed their dishes, I put away their laundry. They leave the house every morning with the house in utter disarray and come home and it is magically clean & tidy. How can I not blame them for assuming a fairy stopped by and whisked it all away. I'm impatient. They don't it the way I want it done so I just do it. I'm controlling. Until I change, they never will. I created this stress, and it will be up to me to remedy it. 

Sully comes home Tuesday. I want everything to be perfect when he comes home. I always fail. Yet it is always the goal. I'm not so sure why I wait till the day before he comes home to get EVERYTHING I didn't do done, or why I even think it is remotely possible. It's sad really because usually by the time I hear his diesel roar down the driveway I am overwhelmed, and disappointed in the things that didn't get done. We've been doing this hitch life for almost ALL of our marriage and as much as I look forward to 'Honey-come-home-day' it is usually a day of anxiety for me. And instead of a joyful wife greeting him at the doorway, he usually gets a disheveled mess who is in a funky mood because her unrealistic expectations are unmet. This is the result of trying to make things perfect. 

I think perfectionism is part of why I fail at every weight loss attempt I start. I am pretty sure it's what is destroying me as a mom, wife, & friend too. Another reason for this blog. Exposing the cracks. Maybe if I exhibit my life as it is...I can accept it. Not just accept it, embrace it. Find the glory in the mess. Express gratitude in the undone, the lived in, the imperfect that is my life. I think that is where God's grace meets us. 

I could have done more today, but I rested. Sometimes you have to set aside your 'To Do' list and rest your soul. Today was a good day to do that. If I'm lucky tomorrow and all it's troubles will arrive soon, and I can pluck away at it some more. 

Day eleven was a success, although I need to drink more water. The perfectionist in me struggles when I don't hit the mark. Whether it be carb count, ounces of water drank, activity level met. If each box is not perfectly checked I would usually count the entire day as a loss and binge. Looking at it now I can see what insanity that thought process was. It was just as ludicrous that I had to always start on a Monday, and if I failed on a Monday I would wait an entire week to try again. Perfectionism is a sickness. Learning to take your life moment by moment, when you are use to such absurdity is a difficult thing to do. Trying to be prefect is like living in a self imposed prison, each bar your own high standards and impossible goals. It's isolating. It's guilt. I'm just trying to break free.