When I say I’m a recovering perfectionist, I’m not kidding.
I am recovering from my diseased mind.
My software system has a virus and I’m upgrading the code.
Here’s a glimpse into my perfectionist voice…
- Spelling mistake here.
- You’ve gained weight.
- You lost your train of thought there.
- You were repeating yourself.
- You didn’t prepare enough.
- That guy still hasn’t called you back.
- You shouldn’t be drinking.
- You look tired.
- These boots, again?
- Why’d you say that?
Her perspective on everything is: not good enough.
Living with her has definitely had it’s share of challenges. But here’s the gift: she’s my greatest teacher.
Every moment she calls to me in her sultry tone. She can slay me in an instant with her quick wit and good points. But each moment, if I can be conscious enough, and stay present, I get to choose whether I go down her rabbit hole.
Sometimes I do.
Mostly I don’t.
My inner perfectionst is my personal trainer. Her presence in my life tones my self-love muscles. And for this, I’m forever grateful.