Sometimes Perfect is the Problem

I wanted to be perfect.  The perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect daughter.

In an effort to shape myself into the expectations I thought I saw in the eyes of others, I dieted, exercised, tried to be pleasing, turned off my voice and desperately clung to the attention of men, often pursuing relationships that would turn destructive. This other-based self-esteem created a cycle of rejection and shame; shame at being rejected, at being deemed unworthy, and a more insidious inner shame of having proved I was unworthy because I was so needy.

No achievement was ever enough to prove to me my own worth.  I threw myself into marriage and motherhood with obsequious gratitude for being deemed worthy of being chosen.  I poured myself into being self-reliant and self-sacrificing, creating the perfect home, perfect meals, perfect nutrition, perfect sleep schedules, perfect, perfect, perfect.  Since I was not a breadwinner, I tried to prove my value by taking responsibility for absolutely everything else including everyone else’s happiness.  In this culture where women can “do it all”, I felt hopelessly lacking, always striving for ways to improve.

Then came breast cancer.  Despite all my years of organic eating, vitamin taking, acupuncture, exercise, yoga, and meditation, I found myself alone in the surgeon’s office, discussing my upcoming mastectomy and the medication they wanted me to take that would throw me into early menopause, contemplating the incredibly imperfect body I was going to be left with afterward.

This began my real journey to healing and beginning to cultivate a self-love that started with accepting imperfection.  For the first time in my adult life, I simply did not have the energy to hide or care about what anyone else thought.  I actually shared the truth about me, not only about the cancer, but also the real me with other people.  To my immense surprise and humility, I found not rejection and condemnation, but compassion and kinship as others shared their own struggles with me.  Through releasing the need to present a perfectly polished image, I found a community of kindness and generosity, and I began to heal emotionally and physically.

The fact is, no matter how perfect we are, life is perfectly imperfect.  We can approach our health from a 100% perfect diet, perfect exercise plan, follow every directive out there, and sometimes we will be thrown a curve ball.

That curve ball can be created directly from our efforts at perfectionism, from living in a world of never good enough,  from thinking that if we are not perfectly following the script, then we are not deserving of good health; that if we are not a certain size, we are not deserving of feeling beautiful or desirable; from thinking that if we are not [insert any perfection guideline you like], then we might as well not even try.

The result is nervous system dysregulation, a chronic underlying stress that eats away at our best efforts and lies in wait until we are vulnerable, such as during perimenopause or under another acute stress, to rear its head and wreak havoc on our health.

Sometimes perfect IS the problem.  What if, instead of insisting on 100% or nothing, we allow ourselves to be imperfect?  To eat the cookie and actually enjoy it, instead of berating ourselves before we even touch it and eventually caving and obstinately eating the entire box?  To skip that HIIT class when we feel tired and enjoy a restorative walk with our friends instead?  To buy the beautiful dress we want in the size that actually fits NOW and allow ourselves to enjoy this moment?

Optimal health looks different for everyone and we all have our own journeys to follow.  My own journey of self-acceptance is ongoing, and as I realize there is no final destination of perfection, I am learning to appreciate the ride.