I admit it. I have a problem with perfectionism.
No. I’m not perfect. I know that and I’m sure people around me know it too.
But for some reason, my head tells me if I can’t do it right, then don’t do it. I don’t want to fail. If I try and fail, then I won’t be perfect.
Sound familiar? Anyone? I’m sure I’m not alone in this, right?
The past few years I have learned to be much more forgiving…at least to those around me. Somehow I have figured out that others are not perfect and that putting that pressure on them made all of us fragile. Relationships can become quite strained when you expect those around you to be perfect. Especially your children and your spouse.
My relationship with my daughters has improved immeasurably (at least in my opinion) because I’m not showing them disappointment first. I am congratulating them on trying. Hopefully, as they keep trying they will continue to spread their wings and soar.
Somehow, however, I have failed to give myself that same kind of permission. I have slowly gotten a little better, but the reality is that I have not perfectly accepted that I am not perfect.
The last half of 2015 has offered me a lot of reasons to step out of my comfort zone and try things.
As scary as that is, I am realizing that it is scarier to have not tried than to have tried and failed.
As I sit here on this beautiful Christmas Eve morning I offer myself a present for the new year: the gift of Failure.
I will choose each morning to reopen the gift and see what it will offer me.
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