Perfectionists don’t start new things.
I realised the reality of this as I stood on the edge of my old life over a year ago.
More accurately: ‘perfectionist don’t start things that they can’t see themselves succeeding in’. We only start on predictable things. Ones with guaranteed success. How else can we ensure perfection?
The hold that perfectionism had on me had held me back so many times in so many ways. In those times I am sure I had very rational and persuasive arguments for why taking the leap would not be worth the cost.
But this time something was different. This time my decision did not affect only me.
This tiny little human, only weeks old in my tummy, held no small place in my decision making.
Her little heart, her little life, sharing my oxygen, blood, and body added a courage to me that I didn’t previously have.
‘What type of life do I want her to see me live?’, ‘What type of mother do I want her to know me as?’
There was certainly nothing wrong with the life that I was already living. Nothing small or inauthentic, but yet I knew that I could not say truthfully to my daughter that I was living to my fullest potential.
Deep inside I knew the dreams that I hadn’t dared say aloud, I knew the words of destiny that echoed in the chambers of my heart, I knew the call of God in certain things too great to articulate without wanting to shrink away.
Perhaps it was the unknown adventure of motherhood that tipped this perfectionist over the edge. ‘Sod it! It’s all gonna change anyway!’
Or perhaps I was just sick of being scared, sick of talking myself out of things I really wanted to do, sick of listening to the demoralising voice of self-doubt, sick of taking a back seat in my own life.
You see, this is the awful thing about perfectionism. It serves everyone else but you. You are the perfect friend, perfect daughter, perfect wife, perfect colleague. It looks easy, like you are breezing it, when internally you are working your absolute butt off.
It’s tiring… and it’s terrifying, because you have never dropped the ball before, and because everything depends on you.
Maybe that is why I have enjoyed these last months so much, starting new things, dropping the ball, and realising that the world keeps spinning. Starting, failing, and finding that there in me is a much deeper chasm of grace for the process, and enjoyment of the pains of growth.
I am thankful for the many friends and family members I have watched take the leap from their old lives into new ones that they have painstakingly grafted and crafted for themselves. Truly inspiring to see small beginnings become way more than that as they commit day in and day out to the compounding effect of beginning even when they don’t know.
So here stands a recovering perfectionist, full of eager anticipation and excitement for the life that lies ahead, the unknown, the unpaved life of new beginnings. A life I hope will tell the story of courage, hope, and joy to my children.
And if I ever fail, fall, or falter in these things, it is okay, because perfection is not the destiny, adventure is.