Indeed, that is what the US of A is all about. The pursuit
of perfection, and never quite getting there. It is very much in the water and
air of this country. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have picked up this bug,
this incessant voice inside me that keeps goading me to be perfect in everything
I do. And when I don’t match up (I’m already Superwoman, but still I fall short)
the guilt and recriminations are endless.
Every day, I strive to be really perfect at my work. I expect myself to work hard and produce excellent content. I want to be able to write excellently, create well, and all in all, basically be perfect at my job. Yes, I know there is a learning curve, and I will take time, but still, I am driven to be really good. Anything less, and my internal voice keeps saying I need to do better. Work harder. And maybe get back to work instead of writing this blog post!
Every day, I strive to be the perfect human being. One who never gets emotional, has crazy outbursts, cries, gets sad or feels anything but upbeat and happy. Needless to say, I do all those things. Still, there is this perfect person I want to be, who is happy not only for herself but for the people around her. Who is bright and shiny and bubbly and cheery. Oh, I am all of that a lot of the time. And then I explode, tearing to bits myself and the people caught in the explosion. Then I feel massively guilty. For not controlling my anger. For being this awful tantrummy person.
Every day, I want to go to the gym and exercise. I want to do this because a) it’s good for my health b) I need to lose weight. Scratch that- I need to lose massive amounts of weight. I want to live up to and become this impossible ideal of beauty. And when I don’t, I hate myself for it. I hate myself for not going to the gym. I hate myself for not taking the time out to do this for myself. I hate myself because I blame myself for not doing this one thing for myself.
Every day, I want to be the perfect wife. Loving, caring, sweet and gentle. I want to make breakfast and dinner for my husband. I want to be there for him. I want to be nice to him. I want to be a loving , kind, wonderful person who listens to all his problems and shares his concerns. And I do this- most of the time. Except for the explosions.
Every day, I want to be the perfect housewife. I want an immaculate clean sparkling house, where everything is in its proper perfect place. Where the bathrooms sparkle and the kitchen sink dazzles. Where the floor and walls and décor and curtains and bedspread are all clean, and matching and beautiful. I work towards this endlessly.
Every day, I want to cook fresh delicious food. From scratch. Every time I use frozen food I feel a little bit more guilty. About not providing fresh and healthy food to my family.
Every day, I want to be the perfect daughter. I want to take care of my parents, who are so far away and alone and unhappy without me.
Every day, I want the perfect life with perfect vacations in perfect locations looking perfect with my perfect husband.
Every day, I want to be there for my friends. Listen to their pain and share it with them.
(Image source: http://listenforjoy.com/art/perfectionmonster.html)
Every day, I strive to be really perfect at my work. I expect myself to work hard and produce excellent content. I want to be able to write excellently, create well, and all in all, basically be perfect at my job. Yes, I know there is a learning curve, and I will take time, but still, I am driven to be really good. Anything less, and my internal voice keeps saying I need to do better. Work harder. And maybe get back to work instead of writing this blog post!
Every day, I strive to be the perfect human being. One who never gets emotional, has crazy outbursts, cries, gets sad or feels anything but upbeat and happy. Needless to say, I do all those things. Still, there is this perfect person I want to be, who is happy not only for herself but for the people around her. Who is bright and shiny and bubbly and cheery. Oh, I am all of that a lot of the time. And then I explode, tearing to bits myself and the people caught in the explosion. Then I feel massively guilty. For not controlling my anger. For being this awful tantrummy person.
Every day, I want to go to the gym and exercise. I want to do this because a) it’s good for my health b) I need to lose weight. Scratch that- I need to lose massive amounts of weight. I want to live up to and become this impossible ideal of beauty. And when I don’t, I hate myself for it. I hate myself for not going to the gym. I hate myself for not taking the time out to do this for myself. I hate myself because I blame myself for not doing this one thing for myself.
Every day, I want to be the perfect wife. Loving, caring, sweet and gentle. I want to make breakfast and dinner for my husband. I want to be there for him. I want to be nice to him. I want to be a loving , kind, wonderful person who listens to all his problems and shares his concerns. And I do this- most of the time. Except for the explosions.
Every day, I want to be the perfect housewife. I want an immaculate clean sparkling house, where everything is in its proper perfect place. Where the bathrooms sparkle and the kitchen sink dazzles. Where the floor and walls and décor and curtains and bedspread are all clean, and matching and beautiful. I work towards this endlessly.
Every day, I want to cook fresh delicious food. From scratch. Every time I use frozen food I feel a little bit more guilty. About not providing fresh and healthy food to my family.
Every day, I want to be the perfect daughter. I want to take care of my parents, who are so far away and alone and unhappy without me.
Every day, I want the perfect life with perfect vacations in perfect locations looking perfect with my perfect husband.
Every day, I want to be there for my friends. Listen to their pain and share it with them.
Every day, I want to take my vitamins on time.
Every day, I want a well stocked larder and fridge. I want my grocery shopping to be comprehensive.
Every day, I want to give and get great sex.
Every day, I want to dress up well and be perfectly turned out and with great hair.
Every day, I want my laundry all folded and put back in its proper place.
Every day, I want the beds made.
Every day, I want my electric toothbrush cleaned.
Every day, I want to be in the office by 9:00 AM.
Every day, I want to make and take lunch with me.
Every day, I want to be perfect in every way.
Every day I fall short. Every day, I inch a little bit
closer to going out of my mind. Every day, I hate myself a little more. Every
day, in a million small ways, I die because I am not perfect. Every day, I want a well stocked larder and fridge. I want my grocery shopping to be comprehensive.
Every day, I want to give and get great sex.
Every day, I want to dress up well and be perfectly turned out and with great hair.
Every day, I want my laundry all folded and put back in its proper place.
Every day, I want the beds made.
Every day, I want my electric toothbrush cleaned.
Every day, I want to be in the office by 9:00 AM.
Every day, I want to make and take lunch with me.
Every day, I want to be perfect in every way.
(Image source: http://listenforjoy.com/art/perfectionmonster.html)
2 comments:
Everyday has only so many hours.
Everyday we aspire to.. because we can.
We think we can, because we know we have it in us to do that one thing perfectly..
What we cant do, is to be accountants!
To count that these things add up to more than 24 hours and discount the rest needed to accomplish these 'energetically' - our forte
Everyday has only so many hours.
Everyday we aspire to.. because we can.
We think we can, because we know we have it in us to do that one thing perfectly..
What we cant do, is to be accountants!
To count that these things add up to more than 24 hours and discount the rest needed to accomplish these 'energetically' - our forte
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