This is really tough for me, but I’m learning to admit that I’m a work in progress. And as a work in progress, I’m not….perfect. There I said it.
I have always been a perfectionist. I vividly remember crying in my seat in third grade because a math problem was challenging to me. I wanted everything to come easily and I wanted an A+.
As I grew up, the struggle continued in different areas. As a newlywed, I tried so hard to make everyone think that we were the perfect couple – no arguing, no financial struggles, none of the common newlywed “issues.” The truth was that we fought more during our first year of newlywed “bliss” than we have at any other point in our marriage. And I remember heading to the scratch and dent grocery store with $25 to purchase two weeks of groceries.
As a new mom, I wanted nothing more than to show up at church with the smiling baby all fixed up, myself dressed to perfection and just smile and say “We’re doing great. She’s sleeping through the night already” when my amazed friends asked how I could have a newborn and be put so together.
Reality found me toting around baby weight with nothing in my closet that fit. And my perfect baby – well, she did sleep through the night early on, but that was the only thing that kept me sane since she cried every waking moment. I was crushed when I overheard someone at church say, “That is the grouchiest baby I’ve every met.”
A year ago I went back to work full-time. I am blessed to have a job I love. I am grateful to have an opportunity to work with so many amazing ministries and leaders. But again I find myself in a zone of perfectionism. I’d like to be super woman. I want everyone to be amazed that I have it all! But the truth is that every day is a struggle.
I often feel guilty that I’m not giving as much to my job as I did before I had kids. I often struggle to remain connected and spend quality time with my kids at the end of the day when I am exhausted. And there are many things that I don’t have time for anymore. I have had to resign from volunteer positions. I rarely have time to sit over a cup of coffee with a friend. And I have to dust my treadmill off before I use it once a month.
The last few years God continues to deal with me on the issue of pride. When I realize that the root of all my attempts at perfection is pride, it looks a little different. Rather than disguising it as an attempt to “give it my all” or “be the best I can be,” I now realize that this has nothing to do with others and everything to do with my selfish desires.
What a relief to know that I can let go of the super-woman syndrome. I was created to bring glory to God. My attempt at perfectionism is not an attempt to bring glory to God, but rather to bring glory to Shannon. In fact, it takes away my ability to rely on God and therefore stifles the ways He can use me. When I turn everything – the perfect, the imperfect and the grouchy baby – over to Him, He can be glorified.