Blog Post No 3 – Flipping the Script

I have a big problem.

I am a ridiculous perfectionist.  Now, don’t stop reading yet – I think you might actually find this interesting.  Allow me to explain.

I was raised by not one, but two perfectionists.  I loved them both dearly, don’t get me wrong, but if I brought home a B, the response was, “Why didn’t you get an A?”  Now this is not a “woe is me” complaint – I fully recognize that my parents did the very best that they could do with the knowledge they had at the time. 

However, combined with the fact that I am pretty darn OCD, this perfectionist trait can lead me down a rabbit hole.

Let me give you an example.  If you were to tell me that you recently painted your bedroom and invite me over to determine what color we should paint your furniture, I would walk into your room and without even trying, I would immediately notice every place where your brush did not perfectly meet the white paint of your ceiling.  Now I did not walk into your room planning to search for imperfections, but instead, I literally cannot see anything else. 

What makes this worse is that in my brain there is a litany of automatic thoughts that revolve around my need to get on a ladder and fix your lovely paint job, like right NOW.  So, when you ask me about the possible colors we could paint your furniture to compliment your new wall color, I am besieged by automatic thoughts that I cannot stop and I have trouble speaking clearly.  Running in the WAY background of these previously mentioned thoughts is another set wondering how I can possibly let you know that I want to fix your paint job combined with how you’re going to think I’m a negative nelly who can’t find a positive thing to say about the hard work you managed to finish.  And do I even have to mention that you are totally happy with your paint job because you don’t see anything wrong with those ceiling lines?

Sheesh.

Now picture me in my garage painting an older piece of furniture to put in one of my spaces to sell and I am trying to make it new again.  If I ask anyone else for their opinion, they look at it and say it looks great.  I usually respond with something like this:

“Look again.”

“Look harder.”

“Don’t you see it?”

“Right there.” (Including me pointing)

And this is the crux of the matter. I am literally the only person who can see that blemish or whatever it may be and no one else cares.  And it is SO frickin’ hard to turn off. 

This is usually followed by me walking away, tossing and turning all night as I ruminate on it and coming back to look at it again with a plan to fix that blemish.  The last time this happened to me, I added transfers, distressing, more transfers, some colored wax and, honestly, there was no doubt I made it worse.

The piece that I just could not stop “fixing.”

Now, let’s flip this script.  I’m going to try and celebrate my gift of perfection. 

I am a solution architect.  I can take someone’s trash and make it into treasure.  I have a back-up for my back-ups.  If you have 2 Sharpies and they run dry, I have 6 more for you to try.  I will notice and pick up every crumb within a 2 yard radius of me and if I feel comfortable with you, I will do it in your house too.  I will absolutely feed your cat when you’re out of town, even if I’m afraid of it.  And I am nearly mentally incapable of letting anyone I love down.  I will ruminate on your problem and try to come up with a solution long after you’ve let that problem go.  And I will offer to talk about anything that you might be struggling with over and over on the off chance that today is the day that you are ready to do so.  And if I happen to know how to do something that you want to try, I will Pinterest the shit out of it, buy supplies, practice and then help you do it. 

This is what you call mindset.  It’s so easy to stick with the automatic negative thoughts but I’m trying to look at these tendencies in a more positive light.  I’m trying to accept what makes me ME.  I’m trying to grow.  This is a battle I fight every single day in every relationship I have – with people, with decisions and with my art. 

I’m up to the challenge.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.