Gratefully Imperfect

I was an organisation freak
So structured
So rigid
So uncreative
Stifling my own and others’ flow
With an eight sided To-Do List
And a review of the To-Dos every day
And no chance of ever getting it all To-Done

And then I broke
And then I got help

The lady said ….
“You seem to be a perfectionist?”
My head said ….
“That’s a good thing right?”
“That kinda sounds like a compliment in my ears?”

It wasn’t
It was a curse
It meant, when depressed
If I couldn’t do everything
I wouldn’t be able to do anything

It meant that ….

It meant I never created
It meant I put my work, and finishing that exact thing, exactly right
above everything else in my world
Above my own health
Above the health of my relationships
Above any fun whatsoever

And then in time ….

I am gradually fixing
Not fixed, but improved
Embracing imperfection
My quirks, my ‘Ducks-Don’t-Stand-In-Rows’ story, my pet peccadilloes
The cracks in my walls where the interesting plants grow

I now create
I am able to move, even just a little
To colour outside of the lines
Or even (God forbid!) draw new lines
Lines I just feel on the day
Whatever squiggle takes my fancy
No measuring or anything
Guided by what my heart says
When my head’s filter is not watching
What a bloody relief

No longer an eight sided To-Do List
Don’t get me wrong – I haven’t lost my mind completely!
I keep reminders. I stick hopeful intentions in a calendar
But if on any given day a To-Do doesn’t get done
I do not flay myself
I say “Yey me!” For the things I was able to do
The days I manage not to spend under a blanket
The days I do something, anything that moves me forward
Even if just for a few small hours
It is a few hours where I’m living not hiding

My name is Gratefully Imperfect
And I am a recovering perfectionist


Copyright © 2017 · Forty and Everything After



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