by Molly, The Writing Life
It’s ok to be good enough.
See, I operate on three speeds – 150%, selective 150%, and “wheels are off of the wagon.” The third usually results from the first two, and my goal is to find some happy medium.
I need to spend more time somewhere else.
I don’t believe in failure. Oh, sure – I believe in it for all of you. And I don’t mean that in a bad way; rather, I mean that I extend to you permission to fall short. And then I’ll dust you off, tell you it’s ok and that you rock anyway, and send you toddling back along the sidewalk.
But as for my house? We serve Perfectionism. And, in doing so, I just realized – we serve Narcissism.
(By “we,” I mean “me.”)
You see, if something goes wrong, in my head – it’s my fault. Always. I share some blame in it. Coworker is unhappy? My fault, somehow. O has a rough couple of days? Failure as a parent.
It’s the 150%, you see. I run on all cylinders, plus rocket boosters and turbochargers. And then, systems start to fail.
I get sick.
I get sad.
I get exhausted.
I get lonely.
I move to Selective 150%, for an extremely brief time. The house gets horribly messy, because I focus on one or two things. Not for long. Just long enough for wheels to loosen, for me to realize that everything else has gone to heck in a handbasket, and then those bad boys spiral away, into the grass (or, heck, off the cliff), and I’m officially sans wheels.
Sans a sense of humor.
There has to be something else.
Part of the New Year’s Resolution for me was peace. And that means that it’s ok to be “good enough.”
It’s ok to totally screw up a lesson in school that I’ll have to reteach, or let the kids eat potato chips for dinner one night. It’s ok to realize that I am not the cause of all the unrest in the world (it’s narcissism, in some strange way, I tell you!), or that if I leave all the toys all over the floor and go to bed, we’re going to be just fine.
My husband tells me that I go looking for things to worry about, and he’s right.
I’m going to start to function at Something Else. You get the very best of me at certain times, and others, you will get potato chips for dinner. You will get toys on the floor. You will get hair color from a box, and first- and second-level questioning, and Cars 2 instead of arts and crafts. Because Something Else is a lot more consistent than 150%-meets-Picking-Wheels-Out-Of-Gutter.
Oh, and self? You are not the cause of ruination in the world around you. And it’s just a little arrogant to think that you are. (However, if you are responsible for something, I expect you to apologize, work to change, and move the eff on. Seriously.)
Excuse me. I’ve got a fourth wheel to locate.
Molly is a mother of two beautiful kids, one of whom has ASD. She survives on love, laughs, caffeine, chocolate, and sarcasm.
This post originally appeared HERE and was published on our site with permission.