Thanksgiving week is one of my favorite weeks of the year. I like the extra time with family, the aroma of special food, the crisp weather, and the way this week marks the official beginning of another holiday season. The older I get the more nostalgic I feel about holiday traditions.
But, this is also the time of year when I can feel my chest tighten and my nerves amp up a bit because the next several weeks naturally bring out the worst in recovering perfectionists like myself.
This is the first fall in many years that we haven’t had family pictures made. I consider this decision a baby step toward letting go of some of my own expectations. There are few things that make me more miserable to be around than getting our crew ready for pictures. Just as soon as I fix everyone’s hair, someone goes and does a handstand. And, it never fails that someone doesn’t like the color of her outfit or someone gets pink eye the morning of pictures {true story}. Or, someone {usually the middle child} gets her feathers ruffled during the shoot and photobombs all subsequent pictures.
So, this year we’ll be using a family picture from this past summer for Christmas cards and calling it done. And, I feel OK about that.
The Spouse regularly asks me, “Can you just relax?” And, truly, I wish I could.
Or he’ll say, “Can you just stop overthinking things?”
Yes. Yes, I can. But, I’ll need to be under general anesthesia. And since I try to steer clear of surgery, most of my waking hours are spent functioning with a brain that tends to over think… everything. From which placemats to use to which presents to buy. It’s draining. And dangerous.
per • fec • tion • ism: (n.) a tendency to set rigid high standards of personal performance
And, I might add to that definition: to set unrealistically high expectations for everyone else as well
I’ve allowed joy-killing perfectionism to ease its way into countless areas of my life. In retrospect, I’ve wasted a lot of time worrying about how far short I might fall of greatness in this or that area, when greatness should have never been the primary goal in the first place. I ignored Henry Van Dyke’s famous words of wisdom: “Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best.” Truly, I was fine with the woods being quiet.
Still today, this mentality creeps into the way I do the holidays. From decorations to desserts, I embrace a “go big or go home” mentality. And, this tends to add disappointment and plenty of unnecessary stress to November and December.
I know perfectionism isn’t a virtue. Mine, at least, is rooted in pride and performance and often driven by fear. It gives me a false sense of control and a misguided sense of worth. And, it means small worries and insignificant pursuits can distract me from focusing time and energy on the bigger picture goal of being hospitable and fully present to the people around me… basically loving God by loving others well.
I don’t want my own girls to fall victim to the perils of perfectionism I struggle with today. Each year as they grow older, I know they are more prone to be shaped by the attitudes and behaviors the people around them are modeling. So, when I lose my mind about the decluttered state of our house, or overreact because someone forgot their hair bow, or freak out because our Thanksgiving centerpiece isn’t up to par with one I saw in a magazine… this is not what I want them to think life is about.
Young children, particularly spirited children like the Preschooler, are good therapy for people like me because they sabotage perfectionism. The Preschooler lives only in the moment, and she is wherever she is expressly to have a good time. She doesn’t care how our house looks, or how she looks for that matter. She wears her tights on top of her leotard and couldn’t care less. She throws tantrums in Target and doesn’t care how inappropriate this appears to the public. She colors outside the lines using the most unlikely color of crayons and considers her art a masterpiece. Watching her is exhausting…
But something about observing her is liberating, too.
The Preschooler and her sisters have no idea how effectively they are chiseling away at my misguided dreams of perfection with every failed family photo shoot, every spilled drink, every poorly timed meltdown, and every blanket fort they build in the middle of the den. The chaos of three young, high-energy children very nearly drives me nuts. But, it also reminds me that life is about a whole lot more than a neat house or matching hair bows… or even a good family picture. Sometimes it’s just about being together and having fun together.
Likewise, the holidays aren’t about Pinterest-worthy place settings or beautifully trimmed trees. Those things are fine and fun, even good things. But, ultimately, they aren’t main things.
I know in my heart of hearts that these next few weeks aren’t meant to be survived. They’re meant to be savored. And, they’re not going to be anywhere near perfect. They just aren’t. But, they have the potential to be what I choose to make of them. If I can just remember something of this truth in the midst of the madness.
With gratitude for each one of you who reads here, Happy Thanksgiving. I hope this week kicks off a special, even peaceful, holiday season for you and yours!
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