Even if you didn’t know me well before reading these Meal Train entries, I’m sure it does not come as a surprise that I have struggled with perfectionism throughout my life. I have always felt driven to be a high achiever, and placed strict standards on myself for what I wanted to accomplish. My sister once joked with me that perhaps the reason I had been given health challenges in my life was to level the playing field a bit for everyone else. (Ha ha.) Because the truth is, I DID get a lot done, and in many cases done well. When Kenny and my mom were both here (and healthy) I was more than competent in a lot of areas of my life. The problems came when I started to take pride in that, or to base some of my self worth on what I was able to DO. All while caring far too much about the outward appearance of things (which can still be hard for me sometimes).
I’ve put a lot of work into trying to recognize some of those habits and incorrect thought processes, to root out those perfectionist leanings. In doing so, it has been interesting to look back on my life through the lens of my recent experiences and circumstances. There are so many unhealthy coping strategies or thought patterns I can now identify, as well as developing a deeper compassion for how I know I was doing my very best despite those things. Like anyone, I certainly had difficult trials even before Kendall got sick. Ways I failed, or was shaken or got knocked down, or didn’t always show up as my best self. I do now, too. Of course. So why is it so difficult to have the same type of self compassion for my efforts now, to not be too critical of myself or focus on all the ways I may feel that I don’t measure up to where I expect myself to be or what I think I should be able to do?
The other day a friend lovingly pointed out to me specific instances she has observed when I’ve started to once again have some perfectionist tendencies creep back in to my conversation and the ways I have been framing my current circumstances. Times I have been trying to rely on myself and my own efforts too much and sometimes forgetting to focus on all that Jesus can and does do. Perhaps losing sight of the fact that I am not supposed to be perfect now. (Besides that, it wouldn’t even be my “best” effort if I were always performing to peak capacity. It would then be my average, my basic standard, right?) No, mortality is about learning from mistakes, and more than anything, it’s about the act of continuing to TRY while turning to the Lord for help. That’s the beauty of daily repentance. I wouldn’t need a Savior if I could handle it all on my own
So why then is that so very hard to do? Why do I continue to hold myself to these unrealistic self-imposed high standards or set such arbitrary benchmarks of measuring my own progress? I struggle a lot with having patience with myself and my weaknesses. Intellectually I do know that my mother passed away only two months ago, and that there have also been some big challenges for me and my family during those two months. So why don’t I simply allow myself to admit more often that I’m having a hard time, instead of expecting to be able to skip ahead to the lessons and the growth? Why do I feel like I should be “better” with this whole grieving thing, when really this time is completely different? Why have I not given myself the same grace to simply sit with my grief, to let that in and of itself be a priority and valuable use of my time?
Because it doesn’t feel like I’ve had that luxury this time, and the world doesn’t give me the same “passes” it seemed to when it was my spouse who had died. But that grief now is still ever present and is starting to force itself out in some uncomfortable ways. In those first days, weeks, and even months after Kendall’s passing, I didn’t have a choice if I was going to deal with my grief. I couldn’t set it aside or ignore it. I was forced to deal with those trauma responses, or I absolutely would not have been able to function. At ALL. And I knew that. So why do I expect myself to be able to continue functioning now without embracing and fully experiencing everything I need to?
I hate the feeling or illusion of going backward, and I think in some ways my brain has treated grief this time around a bit like that. Like I was being set back to the beginning of my healing journey somehow. I want to have learned things from losing Kendall that should make this time easier in some way, more predictable, less painful. Except it doesn’t work that way. At ALL. And that’s frustrating. I’m struggling with being able to accept that I am simply not OK or “on top of things” like I so desperately want to be. I don’t want to openly admit that this is just plain hard. REALLY hard.
I’ve been funny about that, actually. I’ve chosen to be fairly public about many of the things that have happened for my family these past two years. I have welcomed other people, sometimes even strangers, in to follow along and share in our journey. I don’t regret that. But it can be difficult to feel so defined by your experiences and circumstances all the time. I see the looks of shock, and sometimes horror, that come to people’s faces when they learn about some of the things that have happened the past two years. I’ve heard the comments about how extreme or unbelievable some of it seems (and they don’t even know the half of it), how they “can’t believe you are even functioning!”
Except I don’t want to think of the things in my life as harder than anyone else’s. I am NOT Job. Thinking about or being told that my life is so much “harder” in comparison to other people’s somehow then makes it harder to be living it. I don’t want to lower my personal standards, or worse, to have less compassion for others’ trials and experiences. I don’t want to feel set apart, or start to believe that no one else would be able to understand how difficult things are because it doesn’t seem like anyone else has had to deal with QUITE as much. I know that’s not really true. But I think that in being so adamant about that, I haven’t given myself enough permission to admit that things ARE hard. There have been a lot of truly difficult challenges and set-backs for me these past two years. My life HAS been turned upside down and needed to be completely rebuilt. There continue to be those incredibly difficult challenges and set-backs. I struggle at times with giving myself permission to fully acknowledge that things are really, really hard. Or accepting that cutting myself some slack does not mean that I am choosing to wallow in self-pity, or giving up, or excusing myself from continuing to try and improve and progress.
I want to believe that embracing the new hard, the new and the compounded grief, the new obstacles that arise, doesn’t really mean that I am going backward with my personal growth. I need these reminders of how much I need God, and I’m not meant to rely on my own understanding (or actions). Reminders that I am not really alone, despite the many times it feels like it. Reminders that there can be value in the struggle and the pain too, but still not want to be going through the hard things. I don’t want these trials, even while still being thankful for and feeling like it’s been a privilege to have had the experiences I have had and been allowed to grow and learn in the ways I have. It’s OK to still wish things could be easier. It’s OK to sometimes not be OK. And it’s OK to need to keep reminding myself that while I can be grateful for and at peace in my life now, I can still look forward to a time when likely some circumstances won’t feel this hard. Doing so is just being human.
