Tag: therapy

Chasing Perfect.

Processed with VSCO with kp3 preset

Perfectionism.

It’s a daily struggle.
I find myself in pure bliss when every single thing has been checked off my to-do list.
The house is clean.
Kids bathed.
Appointments scheduled.
Dog fed/bathed.
Laundry done & put away.
Workout done.
Prayer time done.
Homework done.

The problem is, I’m either too exhausted by the end of that list to enjoy it or, it rarely happens. Which totally leaves me in a dangerous place of hanging my happiness on whether or not my list is complete.

In my (therapizing) myself, (What the hubs says I do to him) I have figured out that the to -do list makes me feel safe and in control.

While on those “magical days” I feel perfectly content, on those other days when all of the things don’t get done, I feel out of control.

Satan begins restructure my self-esteem in a way that tells me I am only as good as the things I have completed or produced. While there are many many issues with perfectionism, I think the most dangerous part is that it gives Satan a little bit of room to wiggle our lives.

If he can’t control my behavior, my mind is the next best thing. It’s not likely that you’ll find me shoplifting or engaging in another unlawful act. But, on any given day, you may find my mind in places it shouldn’t be.

If I haven’t checked my list off, if I haven’t made it to the gym, if I ate something I shouldn’t have, if I slept in instead of reading my Bible, if I yelled at my kids, if I didn’t really listen when my husband told me about his day, if I wasn’t patient with my two-year old, then I am a failure.

I’m not as good as my neighbor across the street who spends her days playing with her kids instead of doing homework and cleaning.

I’m not as good as the single- mom who spends all of her free time volunteering at church.

I’m not as good as the other grad student who has practiced her skills three times each week.

Or, as good as the girl who got a 98% on her midterm instead of my measly 95%. It must mean I am not meant to be a counselor. Who would want to come to a counselor who got a 95% on their midterm? Certainly not me.  (Kidding. I am making a point about how DUMB my thoughts are).

…you do it too. You just may not be willing to admit it. But behind that screen, you’ve wondered why you’re not as…(whatever) as the person you’re looking at on social media.

If our self-image comes from a comparison with someone else or a comparison with the perfect version of ourselves we believe we should be, we will never ever be good enough. Hear that. We will never be good enough. The instrument we use to measure ourselves will always be changing.

If I want to lose weight…I do…but then I’m not thin enough.
If I want to make more money, I do, but then it’s not enough.
If I want to be a better parent, I am, but not as good as the mom across the street.

There’s always going to be someone who is smarter, prettier, thinner, more fit, funnier, wittier, richer, more acclaimed, more well-known, etc. It is a pointless race that keeps our mind on things that don’t matter.

Well, not that they don’t matter, but comparing ourselves to someone else is a futile endeavor. It gets us nowhere but frustrated.

Some weeks, I get up at 5am and read my Bible for an hour and pray for 30 minutes. Then, I go to the gym. Other weeks, I don’t make it out of bed at 5 and sometimes I don’t make it to the gym. I bet you can guess how my self-esteem is on the days I don’t do those things.

I wonder if you could guess where my relationship with God is on the days I haven’t gotten up early?

If you guess not close, you’re right.

I feel completely disconnected.
I used to think it was because I was not disciplined enough.
I used to think it was because God required me to give him that devotion every single day for an hour and a half. If I didn’t, it must mean I don’t love God as much as I claim to. The honest truth was that I pulled away from him because I felt that if I didn’t do those things, then I wasn’t worthy of his love.

I’m not worthy of his love.
But he didn’t pull away from me, I pulled away from him because I THOUGHT that he would only want me if I was coming to him every single day for exactly 90 minutes.

Then, one day, the Holy Sprit spoke to me and said, “You’re making our relationship a to-do list. It’s not about what you do or don’t do. It’s about me.”

See how Satan does that?
By setting this ridiculous standard for myself in all areas of my life, he managed to wiggle into my relationship with God. He shifted my eyes from Jesus and to myself.
It stopped being about who He Is and it became who I am.

I let Satan in.
I let him in my mind when I started comparing.

While those things didn’t immediately affect my relationship with God, slowly but surely my perfectionism ended exactly where I never intended.

The point of all of this? Be so very careful what you allow yourself to think. Your thoughts have SO much power. Control your thoughts. Don’t let them control you. While you may not have any control over what thought pops into your mind, you absolutely have the power to decide whether or not you are going to spend any time thinking about it.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ.” – 2 Corinthians 10:5

Don’t Cry, Mom.

 

Don’t. Cry. Mom.

Those words were uttered by my sleepy five year-old about an hour past his bedtime (we are late to everything, even to sleep.)

I jumped  fell into his bed after spending entirely too long trying to get my Chloe/Zoe to sleep (that’s a whole other post.)

…If you’re wondering, she wasn’t asleep. I gave up and yelled for her father to try again. Mostly because I had promised Landry I would put him to sleep and partly because I was exhausted with trying to get her to sleep.

My head hit this big brown bear laying in the middle of his bed. A familiar smell hit my nose and went straight to my heart.

This bear, it was my grandma’s. She kept it in her room (you know how old women do?) As suddenly as my heart recognized that smell, the tears began to fall.

Isn’t it funny how a smell can unravel us?

Isn’t grief weird? I wasn’t even thinking about her. It just hits you like a rogue wave. Moments after you were completely fine, you can be smack dab in the middle of complete heart ache.

When my sweet sweet boy noticed my tears he said, “Don’t cry, mom.”

Why do we say that? Why are we so uncomfortable with feelings we all have?

Sadness and grief are universal feelings. Every person on this earth will have experienced both feelings at least once before they die.

Yet, we dismiss them as quickly as they surface.

So, I asked him why he didn’t want me to cry. He said he “didn’t want me to be sad.” To which I replied, “But I am, Landry. And I’m going to be for a long time. I loved and knew my grandma for thirty years– my whole life.”

He said, “Wow, mom. That’s a long time.”

I said, “It is. And wouldn’t it be weird if I was only sad for a day? And I knew her my whole life? Does that sound right? Should I only miss her a day?”

He said, “Well no. You will miss her for a long time.”

I said, “Yeah, probably for the rest of my life. But you know what? That’s okay. She was so special to me. So sometimes I’m going to cry. When I do cry, I feel better. Do you feel better when you cry?”

He said, “Yeah, I do.”

I said, “Do you ever feel better when someone tells you not to be sad or not to cry?”

He said, “No.”

I said, “Or, do you feel better if someone says, oh wow. That makes me so sad too. I’m sorry you’re feeling so sad.”

He said, (rather enthusiastically) “Yeah, that!!”

I went on to explain that being sad is something that is normal. We need to let ourselves feel it when it comes up. Ultimately, that’s the only thing to help us to feel better.

I ended the conversation by explaining that it’s okay for boys to cry and it doesn’t mean he’s weak, it means he’s strong.

I truly believe that we do our sons, husbands, fathers, nephews, and friends a disservice when we enforce the false narrative that men shouldn’t cry. That men shouldn’t feel emotions.

Because, they DO have feelings.

They DO have emotions.

They should feel free to express those emotions without fear of being teased or called a “baby” or a “girl.”

Emotions are not “girl” things.

Emotions are “human” things.

In my house, I saw my dad cry.

I saw him do laundry, change diapers, clean the house, take care of my mom, buy tampons at the store, and anything and everything else because he was my mom’s partner and he was our other parent. He was/is strong because he was able to be both masculine and also emotionally available.

In this house, my children have seen my husband cry. They watch him do laundry, clean the house, take the trash out, take care of all of us, kiss boo boos, change diapers, take Chloe to gymnastics, and any other “girly” thing that needs to be done. My husband is strong because he is able to be both masculine and emotionally available.

We need to do better for our sons. We need them to understand that it’s healthy and normal for them to cry and to feel emotions. If we allowed for them to be who they are, we might just be so surprised at the society we could live in.

One day he will be able to say, “It’s okay to cry, mom. Just cry.”