Perfection

I've been listening to a lot of podcasts and Ted Talks recently.  Apparently, that's what you do when you hit mid life and start questioning your life's purpose.

My favorites so far are: Brene Brown, Jen Hatmaker, and of course Oprah Winfrey.  Some of it, even I think is a little far fetched or I know it already (eye roll...of course, I do...of course).  This is one of the reasons counselling for me, in the past, has been unhelpful.  I know it already.  I keep waiting for this epiphany when I go to counselling, like their questions will help me realize something about myself that I don't already know or that I haven't already thought of.  But I am soooooo introspective (read: worrier) I've already thought about that.  For about 15 hours.  Usually at about midnight, and I can only assume midnight is when I do my best thinking, seeing as that's when I'm wide awake. And it's quiet.  And everyone else is sleeping. 

But I keep hoping that if I keep listening to the strong, amazing, successful women something will stick.  Here's the thing, these women aren't talking about how to be amazing or successful, they're talking just about how to be.  Just how to be.

For years I've defined myself by my ability to be perfect and my ability to do things well. Really, really well.  Good grades, acing tests, meeting targets, exceeding targets - it's what I do.  Type A, perfectionism, they are my best and my worst qualities.  Imperfection is failure, and I cannot fail.  I love breaking the glass ceiling.  I love being the only girl at the boys table.  But also as a person who has diagnosed depression and anxiety, being able to control my environment has become a coping mechanism.  Or maybe something to hide behind.  I don't know if there's a difference.

Lately being perfect has taken it's toll on me.  It's exhausting.  It's making me physically sick (either that or I have a brain tumour - which is entirely possible...even if my doctor says it's not...)

Because -  brace yourselves - perfectionism - it's an impossible target.  I know this.  I know it on an intellectual level.  But on a personal, soul searching, heart wrenching level I find it so hard to accept.  If I'm not perfect or at least trying to attain some version of perfectionism, who am I?  What am I?

I'm at a crossroads.

Brene Brown asks what makes you brave?

For me, I've always followed the rules.  I'm really good at following rules.  They make me feel safe.  I mean, that's kind of what rules are there for - keeping everyone safe.  I'd make a great traffic cop.  I would break every record for traffic tickets - you could single-handedly replace every bridge in the lower mainland with the revenue I would create.  Because frankly, people get away with too much - rolling stops, driving slow in the fast lane, singles driving in the carpool lane, not wearing seat belts, and the list goes on and on.  I can feel my blood pressure going up just thinking about all the violations.   

I've tried to follow life rules as well as I can too.  Get a good, stable job.  One that offers a pension and benefits.  Some of that isn't just because I like rules.  Some of it is just practical because I have a child and I'm responsible for putting a roof over his head, feeding him, clothing him.  Following the rules is helpful.  He grows so fast these days that I literally would have to rob H&M in order to clothe him if I didn't follow the rules.

So if I were to be brave - I would break a few rules.  Life rules.  Rules I've made up for me and my life. 

Brene Brown talks about being vulnerable (which by the way, is very difficult to do and be when
you're perfect).  She says:

Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness.*

*pause*

*breathe*

Another very wise woman - my momma - says that being imperfect gives you the opportunity to experience grace in a way you can't otherwise.  Grace fills in the spots where imperfections leave cracks. 

The more you strive for perfection, the more imperfect you become.

I don't know how this story ends yet.  It doesn't end in one blog post, though, I know that. 

My good friend Jen...Jen Hatmaker, she says -

Simply speaking truth out loud is healing in and of itself.  When people courageously voice a true, hard thing, they've already stolen some of it's dark power before we offer one word to fix it**

*brenebrown.com

**For the Love - Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards  Jen Hatmaker

Self Improvement (a.k.a I'm Not Perfect...)

I often think that I'm pretty perfect.  I mean, for me.  I'm pretty perfect for me.  I'm not like the perfect person.  And I'm not like a huge ego-maniac or anything.  I just think that after 36 years, I've pretty much learned everything about about myself that there is to learn.  I don't often seen much room for self improvement.

Maybe I'm too close to the situation.

One thing I pride myself in is my kindness.  I strive to be kind to people.  I think it's a lost art, simple kindness.

Stay with me here...it's not all self praise.  I'm almost making myself gag.

I've recently changed positions at my job.  It's been a rough two weeks to say the least.

As you'd expect with any change, I learned something about myself.

Something to improve on...

I'm only really nice to people who are...

wait for it...

nice to me.

So, I'm not actually nice everyone.  It's super easy to be kind to people who are kind in turn.  It's even easy to be kind to people who are neutral.  You know, neither nice or mean.  But whoooooo, have you tried to be nice to someone who makes you feel like you just crawled out from underneath a rock?  Have you tried smiling when someone is insulting your intelligence or questioning your ethics?

It's a whole lot harder.

So this is something I'm going to actively work on. So I can be an even more perfect version of myself.

Parenting - Actions Speak Louder

I learn so much from parenting.  

Sometimes, it's humbling.

Sometimes, it's downright embarrassing.

Since forever, Q has had a difficult time reading and writing.  He hates reading.  He hates writing.  And he has to work really hard at both.  Last year, we had the school do some testing, because I was really concerned that he has dyslexia.  Studying for spelling tests were a daily struggle and I felt like I was waaaaay out of my league.  I needed help in helping him.  The testing revealed that he was reading and writing at a grade level lower than he is in.  This spiked my anxiety.  Reading and writing at a grade level lower can be an indication of a learning disability.

Q is always so good at everything he does.  He's awesome at sports, he can do math in his head, he beats me at board and card games all the time.  Everything comes so easy for him.  I knew it must be so frustrating for him to have such a difficult time with spelling.

So I did everything I could do to help.  We studied those 20 words for hours every week.  Hours.  Like, I'm talking hours.  On average, we were spending 30 minutes to an hour every night practicing the words.  I would have him stare at the word, write the letters, say the letters - all in an attempt to help him succeed on the spelling test every Friday.  And then I would stress that it didn't matter what the mark was, as long as he did his best, I was super proud of him for doing his best.

We finally hit out breaking point.  

I called the principal.  

She reviewed his file.

She called his teacher, a learning specialist, and me into her office so we could discuss how best to help my child with his learning disability.

So you know when you take your kid to the doctor because he's super sick and the second the doctor walks into the room, your kid is fine.  Totally fine.  And you look like the paranoid, overprotected mother??

Ya.  

This meeting was kind of like that.  

It was Friday, so Q had a spelling test.  He got 26/30.  Twenty six out of thirty words that have* ie* and *ei* (and don't follow the rules).  Words like receive and believe.  And he got 26 of them right.

Pretty fricken awesome, right?

Then the learning specialist had him read...where he read perfectly at a grade 4 level.

He's in grade 4.

The LST says, "So where's the problem?"

The principal says, "Does he have a lot of pressure from home to do well?"

The teacher says, "I've brought his journal.  It's very well written."

I started to sweat.  

What was going on here???

"Yes, but we had to study an hour every night for him to get 26/30..."  As the words are coming out of my mouth, I'm trying to grab them and put them back.

The principal says, "Does he enjoy sitting and practicing for an hour every day?"

Uh, no.

The teacher says, "He should be practicing for no more than 20 minutes per night."

They all just stare at me.  

As I'm sitting there, it finally hit me.

I'm telling Q that it doesn't matter what he gets on his test as long as he tries his best, but my actions are telling Q that he needs to try harder, do better, and sit in that chair until he gets every single word right. Because as long as your best is perfect, we're all happy.  

I wanted to crawl under the table, slink my way to the door, and then run for my life.  

Suffice it to say, my son does not have a learning disability.  He has an insane mother with outrageous expectations.  We're going to practice spelling for 20 minutes a day.  We're going to read for 20 minutes a day.  We're going to celebrate (one of his spelling words, btw) no matter the results.  We're going to practice what we preach.  As long as we do our best, we're super proud of ourselves.

I'm also going to stop reading Harry Potter to him while he cries that he's soooooooooo bored and hates Harry Potter.  I'm going to stop telling him I'm doing this for his own good - to inspire his reading and if he would just listen, he would love it, and he would love reading, and he will feel passion for reading.

Like I do...

Oh...and one more thing....

Momma, you were right.

Lessons From my Son (Who is 8...) and Q-isms

Okay, so my kid is brilliant. 

 

And hilarious. 

 

And I haven't done a 'Q-isms' for a while, so this is a whole bunch of his wisdom all in one post.

 

Q:  I'm think I'm going to have two kids.  A boy first and then a girl.  I'm going to name the boy Joe and the girl Maria.

 

Me:  Why Joe and Maria?

 

Q:  I don't know.  I just really like those names.  But I guess if I had twins, I let my wife name one and I'd name the other.

 

Huh, sounds fair.  I didn't know 8 year olds thought about things like that.

 

Q:  I'm getting married in the Dominican Republic

 

Let me tell you this is a far cry from his destination of choice last year, which was Russia...

 

Q's Daddy:  What if your wife doesn't want to get married in the Dominican Republic?

 

Q:  Well, she can go where ever she wants, but I'm going to the Dominican. 

 

Q's Daddy:  How could you get married then?

 

Q:  Uh, she could call me...we could get married over the phone.

 

Ahhhhh, romantic just like his father...

 

Q:  I'm going to stay at my school until high school, and then I've decided to go to Seaquam, not Tamawanis.  Then I can go to school with S and B.

 

Again, do 8 year old boys plan their future like this kid?  Last week we spent an hour in a book store while he looked for books.  This in and of itself is not exactly odd behavior for a child, but he went around straightening all the books on the shelves as he was looking for books.  He didn't even notice he was doing it.

 

Last week he came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, with a huge smile on his face and said, "Mommy, look!!!  If I curl the toothpaste tube from the end, it pushes the toothpaste to the end.  It looks so much neater!"  Seriously, could I be any more proud??  I know, I asked myself that question but then he asked me if we could clean his bedroom and give away any toys and/or clothes that he didn't use anymore...and I think my heart burst with joy.  Where did this kid come from?

 

So a few months ago, Q began telling me and his dad how he was going to be in the NHL when he was older.  I smiled to myself thinking how wonderful the dreams of young children are.  They have the whole world ahead of them and really can dream as big as they want.  But then, he started saying he wasn't going to University because he was pretty sure he would already be playing for BCHL and wouldn't have time to do both.

 

We put him in skating lessons shortly thereafter. 

 

Listen, I don't know if he's going to be in the NHL.  He's 8.  He could change his mind a million times over between now and the time he has to choose a career.  Truthfully, I still don't know what I want to be, and I'm 35.  What I do know is that I'm going to do everything I can to try and make sure all his dreams come true. 

 

Granted, he is starting pretty late if he wants to play professional hockey.  Most kids start skating as soon as they can walk, it seems and they're playing hockey by the time they're 4 or 5.  Q starting at 8 is a little late.  Not only that, he has had to start from the very beginning.  My heart ached for him, watching those first few skating lessons.  Frustration was written all over his face.  It was not easy.  He fell.  A lot.  His muscles hurt.  A lot.  There were kids who were way better than him, and that is really hard for a perfectionist.  (Just like me!!)  He really wanted to be a 'hockey player' and every time he'd get cocky and do some smooth move, he'd fall or trip or lose his balance.

 

I went and watched Q at his hockey practice tonight, and I have to say, that kid has come a long way.  I am continually amazed by the lessons I learn from my child.  We really are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for.  Practice and perseverance.  That's all it takes.  If we want something badly enough, practice and persevere.  I think of how many times I say, "I can't do that..."  I really, really can.  You really can.  The question is really, "How badly do you want it?"

 

We've been practicing spelling since grade one.  Ugh.  I'm not going to lie, it's been painful.  I am not even exaggerating when I tell you we've spent a hour and a half every night of the week studying for his spelling tests, just for him to still get half of them wrong.  There would be crying.  And sometimes, it was Q.  There would be yelling.  There would be, "Mommy.  Are you getting mad yet?" Because we both knew it was coming. 

 

But we persevered.  People kept saying, "It will click.  It will click." I didn't really believe it.  I was super glad that spell check existed and the iPhone literally finishes your words for you.  I knew Q would be okay.  He wouldn't be an English Professor, but he wouldn't be playing guitar at the subway station either. 

 

We kept practicing.  Oh. My. Goodness. You guys!!!!!  Something just clicked!!  Lately, we've been spending 10 minutes a night on spelling.  10 minutes!!  And he gets 100% on the tests.  Something just clicked!  If he gets one wrong, it's because he had a "brain fart" (his words).  See what practice and perseverance can do?!?!?!  I'm seriously reconsidering everything in my life.  Everything I've said I cannot do.  I'm not really giving myself enough credit. 

 

Q...he's an introvert.  He's quiet until he gets to know you.  He's a perfectionist.  He's determined, though and my heart is sooooo happy because he believes he's worth it.  He's worth all the practice and all the frustration and all the falling down and all the spelling mistakes.  He's worth it.  And he knows he's worth it.

 

Do you know you're worth it?  What are you holding back on because you think you can't???  I'm compiling my list right now.  Specifically, I'm feeling completely overwhelmed in this new job and wondering if I've made a mistake.  Am I capable of even doing this job?  I am going to take a lesson from my kid, though, and persevere.

 

And now I leave you with an awesome picture of my awesome child.