controlling perfect

perfectionism: refusal to accept any standard short of perfection.

This is a sad truth that I am revealing to you. One that many of you already are fully aware of.

I identify with this persona. I strive to avoid all things that are less than perfect.

Here's the thing. Perfection is relative. Also, "perfectionism" is sometimes a term that is just a mask for "an obsession with control."

Control is something we are constantly told to "let go of." Let go of the need to be right, let go of the need to do things a very specific, very structured way. Let go of the expectations & the destination. Focus on the now, the journey, the loss of things being just so. Let it be what makes you up, the body in which you are living your life in.

I am someone who is constantly picking a fight. I like to be right. I like to be right so much that I don't even see myself pushing back toward people I love until I have already done it & we are looking back on the conversation. I am refusing to admit that that was what was happening. That I had to be right. I find all sorts of other things to pin it on, "no, I don't care, I was simply saying..." 

No, see, no. 

You are becoming wrapped up in that deep drive. That force that refuses to yield. When life is made up of learning & failures & becoming better, you refuse. You think because you are "attempting at making yourself better," that you actually are. But deep down, at the core of the thing, you are stubborn & ultimately, right.

Here's my thought. Just stop with the constant movement going on in your brain. There's a simple answer. Allow the words to settle like dew on blades of grass. Do not send your ray of heat, like the morning sun, to evaporate that moment of growth. Everything is not an attack. Everything doesn't have to be defended or explained. You can allow that moment to wash over you like a fresh tidal wave. The salt water grazing your skin. 

Allow it. 

Allow this to happen.

Control does ugly things to a person. When they don't allow the control to recede from their minds, hearts & lips. They become a cage. A hollow shell that refuses to look in any other direction. I have always done this this way. I will always do this this way. No, darling, no. Life doesn't work this way & anyone who tells you that it does is wrong. 

Like you. 

You are wrong. 

Often. 

Maybe what you need to allow is the realization that right & wrong is not a death sentence, or a succession, or a white flag. It does not mean that you have lost your "perfection." It just makes you look selfish, arrogant & stagnant. You refuse to grow if you do not allow yourself room to let go of control. You are standing in the face of it & saying, "yep, I am refusing to grow because my pride is more important." It doesn't work this way. You holding on to the sand only makes it push more deeply past your fingers. You must loosen that grip, dear. It isn't about being a failure, although that is something that will have to be remedied in different ways, but releasing the all-encompassing need for control. To be cliche & let it go is the only way to welcome in the growth you so strongly desire. You must change to allow the change to occur. 

You aren't going to like it all the time. You will fight it in your head. You will make a snarky comment, or smirk, or be passive aggressive. You will want to overcome those split-second responses. And the most beautiful part is, you can. Just take a breath, look out into the distance, see the wave breaking & welcome it in with open arms. The crash may feel overwhelming, but the aftermath will be sweet. 

Don't stop there. Let the waves keep crashing over you. 

Allow it. 

Don't try to control the waves. You simply can not. 

You are in a special place, love. 

Just slow it all down until you have no choice but to let go of the desire to fight.

night time.

sometimes I find myself in a very quiet place.

the apartment is still, the heater off now that winter has shed it's thick layers & the sunshine is making its appearance, warming the day.

The sounds of gentle rhythms & soft voices are hushed whispers in the background as I play something to fill the silence.

I get really introspective & I ponder a great deal.

I boil water.

steep strong tea.

I allow my thoughts to sway in their watery home, as the waves of the day come to a lull & I start to tally up the score in my mind.

How many things did I accomplish, how many things did I leave undone.

What did I succeed in & what could I have done better in.
When could I have focused on the good, instead of clinging to the bad like a security blanket. 

What challenges did I flee from, pushing my way in the other direction.

I find myself in these moments.

My mind is not still - I plead with it to quiet it's restlessness for just a few moments.

I allow myself to focus on my breath.

The rising & falling of my chest.

I return to this sensation.

The breath that has been given to me.

I banish the thoughts from my mind that stir up chaos.

They create a swell of unrest.

I shift in my seat, my tea is steaming in it's sterling blue mug.

I take a sip, it is dark & bitter.

I return to my breath.

Why must I fight with my own thoughts so often?

You are a disruption, I think to myself.

I am reminded of so much in these seemingly still moments.

My fingers find these keys, I begin to type these things.

I don't have a clear cut plan for what I want to say, the words they just come crashing out.

I want to find some structure to my life that involves getting my hands a little dirty.

That allows room for mistakes & trials that will teach me to grow.

I push those things aside so quickly, to make room for the things I like or am good at.

Why do I feel so stuck, I ask myself.

It's because you have forgotten to allow yourself room to make mistakes.

To learn, to breathe a new breath - one that is not calculated, or precise.

Just freely flowing, creating space where there once was none.

The discomfort is only temporary, I tell myself.

The real victory is overcoming the moments when I feel like I can't try.

When I am scared to look over the edge & see a mountain of my failures.

Is it really that scary?

Aren't we all just giant mistake makers, who prance around acting like we've got it together?

There is a slight chill to the room now. I stretch out my legs beneath the table. The warmth of the tea sends a slight shiver down my spine. I hold the mug in my hands and shift the dark amber liquid from side to side, like a boat making small movements on the sea.

You need to be renewed, I say.

You need to have faith.

You need to trust that there is a reason for all these things.

I roll my head around on it's neck, stretching the ligaments & tendons.

Reminding myself to drop my shoulders from cradling my ears as if they we're infants in need of hands to hold up their tiny heads.

I know all of these things, I say.

I know them all so much which is what makes these lulls of stillness almost unbearable.

I know that I need to make the choice to do the hard things.

I just don't want to.

I feel the anxiety in the ocean of my mind begin to toss up its current.

The driving force which causes me to stand up & walk around the room.

I know all of these things, I know them to my core.

So why is it so hard to make the choice to change?

Why it is so damn hard?

The screen is staring back at me. The question mark a silent taunt.

There is no answer being projected on the screen. There is no directions manual.

Life is a giant whirlwind of choices, mistakes, failures & triumphs. They can't all be triumphs just as they can't all be failures.

It doesn't have to be one or the other.

It's time to find the balance.

I am a ship destined to move about on these stormy waters.
I am not meant to sit silently moored to my dock.
No movement, no crashing waves.
Nothing that challenges me or makes me try harder to hold it together.
I was not meant for this, I say.
I am meant for greater things, if I would allow them to manifest in my life instead of pushing them all away.

The music has stopped.

It has stopped a long time ago.

I just realized this as I stopped typing, and the silence completely envelopes me.

Let it go, I say.

It doesn't have to be this way.