The Follies of Perfection, or the Perils of Being Human

I was raised in a household where if I wasn't perfect, then I wasn't good enough.

Guess what! I was never good enough! Why? 'Cause I'm not perfect.

My parents felt incredibly threatened by my intelligence, and they also found it much, much easier to focus on my "flaws" as a child than to focus on their big, big, big flaws as parents. Therefore, I was the object of much criticism.

I still beat myself up mentally more (much more) than is necessary. Self-criticism is a necessary thing at times, but not to the point where you're being your parents in your own head. As my therapist said to me last week, "When you find yourself berating something you've done, realize that isn't you; it's your parents." She's right.

My parents were, and still are, from what I gather, miserable pieces of shit. My parents are both in their 70s, but both are dead to me. They have been for a long time now. My father finds it easy to point out the flaws in everyone immediately--it's a great way for him to keep from having to concentrate on his own. His fat pig of a second wife is the same way. I had enough, and dropped them. The word "family" doesn't mean that people have any more right to fuck you over than anyone else.

Christ only knows that I'm not exactly Pollyanna, but if you want to find the bad about something, anything, it can be done. Some people find it easier than others.

That's why I cannot stand complainers, whiners, or blamers. If you don't want to make things better, than shut the fuck up and wallow in your misery alone. I don't want to hear about it. I have absolutely zero patience with those that want to whine about how bad something is and then do sweet fuck all about changing it.

Maybe that's the one good thing having someone like my father in my life taught me--whiners are assholes not worth tolerating.

He once said to me, "People point out the flaws in others that they have themselves." Right, Dad. You're a pretty flawed son of a bitch, then.

I read a quote some months ago that really blew my head apart, in a good way. It said:

"Perfectionism is the highest form of self-abuse." -Anne Wilson Scharf

I only wish I'd read this quote back when I was a little kid, and just learning how to read. It wouldn't have helped me in dealing with my parents, but it would have helped me in the many years since I began letting my parents rent out space in my head, even though I physically moved out a long, long time ago.

They owe me a lot of back rent.

The past few days, when I've just been very dissatisfied with the way things have gone just in general, I realize it's because I'm wanting them to go perfectly, and that's not how life happens. Life happens as life happens. Actually, having the way things went yesterday opened up some new avenues for me that I didn't know existed, and what I wanted to get done did get done. Just not the way I thought it would.

Once again, I need to practice not planning so much and let the Universe lead me as it will. Sometimes "giving up" in a good way is the best, not to mention the easiest way to go. I fight giving up just as I fight relaxation, because to relax is to be comfortable with oneself, and that's not something I was raised to be. I think it's always important to strive to improve, but to aim for perfection is just folly.

It slays me how in interviews they're always asking what your goals are, or where you see yourself in five years' time. The last time I got asked that in an interview, it was by a man who was clearly fed up with the world and not very happy in general. I looked at him and said, "I'm going to be five years farther along than I am right now. I've tried making plans, and whenever I do for that far in advance, something always happens to change my plans completely, so I'm concentrating on the here and now, and the future will take care of itself."

I liked that answer. I don't know what he thought of it. I wasn't called back for a second interview. Good.