The year of letting go

Perfection.  It's a word that I've depended on for the majority of my life.  This one simple word has been my focus, my drive, and my vision for the last 34 years.  I've kept my eye on the prize for as long as I can remember. I've never taken something on and done it half-arsed.  Give me a project and it's full out, balls-to-the-wall... GO!! Heading back to school?  Not only am I going to go to the best-rated nursing school in the country, I'm getting that full-tuition scholarship.  Getting married? I'm going to find the best husband that the world has to offer. Having a baby? I'm researching the heck out of it and going for the drug-free home birth.  And if I don't get it right the first time, I'll be damned if I don't figure it out and do it even better the next time around.  When my life is ending, I want to look back and know that I was as close to perfect as humanly possible.

I hope that my opening thoughts are not mistaken for arrogance, as that's not my intention. To say that I strive for perfection does not indicate that I think I'm perfect. The reality is that I am far from it! The mere fact that all things seem to fall apart internally when I don't achieve perfection just goes to show how far from perfect I really am.  There are days when I fall into a puddle of tears and can't figure out why I'm crumbling.  For all appearances sake, my life is pretty close to perfect. But one minor slip up for me and it's as though my life is one fucked-up mess. 

This need and desire to do all things perfectly has been exhausting. Putting so much pressure on myself has taken such a toll. My mind is always in action- I'm on to the next project before I've even completed the first. I have a hard time living in the moment for fear that I have not prepared to make the next moment perfect.

I'm beginning to realize, albeit rather slowly, that I can't be all things to all people (myself included).  And really... what's the point?  Will my children slowly begin to perish if they eat one box of processed macaroni and cheese?  Will I get fired or be any less respected if I try to keep my management job to 8 hours a day? Will my neighbors or friends judge me if there are dishes in the sink or a load of laundry on the couch?  What good is perfection if my children are grown and I've lost the opportunity to make messes with them?

My mother used to frequently tell me that I needed to relax- that I was so high strung and that I needed to let go of the need to control everything in my life.  There was no better lesson learned than sitting at her bedside as she demonstrated for me the ultimate act of letting go.  My mother loved life.  She had so much more to give and she certainly was not ready to die.  She fought as hard as she possibly could, then she gracefully and beautifully, let go.  As our souls danced one last time on this earth, she told me that life is short.  She told me to stop being so hard on myself.  She told me that motherhood does not have to be as hard as I am making it out to be.  She told me to let go.