I've had something on my mind recently and feel the urge to set the record straight. I write a lot about motherhood and balance and self-care and eating well, but that does not mean that I do these things perfectly.
In fact, just as a doctor makes the worst patient, I can be guilty of giving advice without being able to see my day-to-day life as clearly. Sometimes I snap at my husband, I lose my patience with my kids, I eat all the cookies, I lay awake at night with anxiety, and I forget what’s important.
But I write to hold myself accountable to the hard work required for improvement. Every day, I’m trying to do better and be better. I’m not trying to achieve an impossible level of perfection. I am smarter to know that perfection doesn’t bring you love or acceptance, it only brings about more expectations.
There are days I want to abandon the high expectations I've set for myself, but as hard as I try, I can’t. I find my personal expectations and drive to be so intertwined. Instead, I remind myself I’m more than my to-do list and accomplishments. I'm a human being, not a human doing.
I try to be gentle with myself and let go of the times I’ve fallen short. In doing so, I hope my children witness that self love and don't fear the times they may not meet their goals. That unconditional love, for myself and my family, is constant and unwavering, as is their love for me.
Are you a recovering perfectionist? How do you cope?
In an effort to do more "being" and less "doing" next week, I'm tagging along on my husband's business trip and taking a short writing hiatus. I'll be back later next week, but in the meantime you can follow along here.
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