start to finish
That is it.
Simply put: I wanted to complete something start to finish.
Before I had babies I would just do things. There was no issue, something needed to be fixed - ok, I'll figure it out. Something needed to be mended, cleaned, weeded... I just did it.
Then I had little people and I inadvertently put my life as I knew it on hold. I see people involve their kids in projects and that's just lovely and I applaud you, but it brought on more stress to not be able to do things myself start to finish. (How very un-montessori of me, but that's my wiring).
This is not to say I've been an unproductive human since having kids. I still do a butt ton of crap around here, but it's been years since I've taken on an actual project. We were at a play date a few weeks ago and I saw wood and power tools in their garage only to find out it was the mom that "just does it" and likes power tools. I like the idea of being able to do things, but I will be the first to admit I will sit and wallow and worry that I will do it wrong because I have no idea what I am doing and then in turn waste money on the project because I didn't do said project correctly. This theme I'm noticing a lot lately as I navigate this whole "what's next" stuff.
It's all based in fear.
Today, thanks to Aha Parenting I learned that fear is Future Events Appearing Real. Holy Crap, right?!
I don't want to be the person that can't do anything because I'm scared I will mess up or lose money. I don't want that, but I know there's a piece of it still holding on as I name it. Even this blog, I sit here and write it and there's that little asshole voice saying will it be good enough by the time you have to press send? Who in the actual fuck cares?
Fear.
Perfectionism.
These two bullies.
That's all they are; my freakin bullies. They have their place for a moment, but moving in, no, that's not okay. The irony of perfectionism is that I used to think it was a strong attribute, one that you put on your resume. Now, I look at that as such deterrent as it's infringed on my productivity and the ability of being able to start something. It's often so hard to start because of the bully telling me it would be perfect when it's finished. So sometimes I sit.
I was listening to a podcast this morning and a question was asked about being depressed. Depression is certainly something I can find myself wallowing in and out of, but I don't stamp myself as clinically depressed. Moreorless it's a feeling I identify with and can name when I'm in a slump. I feel it and know it and usually the best way through it has been to feel it and let is shift. Lately I'm noticing the slumps and they are often tied to self worth. What am I contributing? What am I giving that is worth while? What do I bring to the table?
Ok, yes.
My rational mind I know I bring plenty to the table because I indeed, do know that I am talented and most of the time I consider myself to be pretty good company, but what fills me up? What can I bring to the table that FILLS ME UP? This is what's been so hard on this journey. The host of the podcast, Rachel, answered depression question with multiple answers BUT one struck me today. Sometimes it's depressing when we have no direction.
THAT (insert pointer finger upward emoticon here).
There is a part of me that feels a lack of direction.
Recently I worked on my girls' school gala and while it's volunteer work and time consuming, there was still a sense of accomplishment. I worked hard. I did do a good job. It was for a community that I love. And, I felt I knew the direction. That was a helpful experience; more of that, but with some dollar signs so I can contribute to my family contribute to myself.
I was mentioning to my therapist about perfectionism. She mentioned it's exhausting trying to live up to the bully in our head's standards. IT IS. It truly is. I'm not exactly sure how to toss this bully to the curb, but I really could use some of that energy she's stealing. Perfectionism is like the cousin to Not-Enough-Ness and Control. They are related and usually hang out together. Unfortunately both are assholes, too. So who am I when things aren't perfect? Am I enough when things feel like they are unraveling? Am I enough when things are out of my control?
Well, duh! Of course I know this too. Of course I am enough; enough of all of the things. But, in those moments of being bullied I have to flex with all my might to be stronger than that voice. It's the same voice that sends me into that slump.
Over the last couple months. I've been painting. Not a tapestry (although that would be fun). We have a room in our attic that was nasty old panel and purple carpet. John gifted me new carpet for Christmas and was going to paint the room whatever color I wanted. I chose white. And before he started I told him I wanted to paint it myself. I have never painted a room before or really any painting that didn't involve a canvas, but I wanted to do it.
Start to finish.
I wanted to do it- my way, my time, my rules. He at one point came in to give me tips on the trim and I kindly told him that I want it all white ceiling to floor and I want to do it all my way; rules free. It was supposed to be a week long project, but apparently paneling takes longer to cover with white. I did an hour here and there when I could. I didn't rush. I didn't stress. I did everything on my own time when I felt like painting. I'm proud to say I completed the white room - start to finish - my way, my time, my rules. I simply wanted to do it myself and savor the feeling of my imperfectly perfect job.
Simply put: I wanted to complete something start to finish.
Before I had babies I would just do things. There was no issue, something needed to be fixed - ok, I'll figure it out. Something needed to be mended, cleaned, weeded... I just did it.
Then I had little people and I inadvertently put my life as I knew it on hold. I see people involve their kids in projects and that's just lovely and I applaud you, but it brought on more stress to not be able to do things myself start to finish. (How very un-montessori of me, but that's my wiring).
This is not to say I've been an unproductive human since having kids. I still do a butt ton of crap around here, but it's been years since I've taken on an actual project. We were at a play date a few weeks ago and I saw wood and power tools in their garage only to find out it was the mom that "just does it" and likes power tools. I like the idea of being able to do things, but I will be the first to admit I will sit and wallow and worry that I will do it wrong because I have no idea what I am doing and then in turn waste money on the project because I didn't do said project correctly. This theme I'm noticing a lot lately as I navigate this whole "what's next" stuff.
It's all based in fear.
Today, thanks to Aha Parenting I learned that fear is Future Events Appearing Real. Holy Crap, right?!
I don't want to be the person that can't do anything because I'm scared I will mess up or lose money. I don't want that, but I know there's a piece of it still holding on as I name it. Even this blog, I sit here and write it and there's that little asshole voice saying will it be good enough by the time you have to press send? Who in the actual fuck cares?
Fear.
Perfectionism.
These two bullies.
That's all they are; my freakin bullies. They have their place for a moment, but moving in, no, that's not okay. The irony of perfectionism is that I used to think it was a strong attribute, one that you put on your resume. Now, I look at that as such deterrent as it's infringed on my productivity and the ability of being able to start something. It's often so hard to start because of the bully telling me it would be perfect when it's finished. So sometimes I sit.
I was listening to a podcast this morning and a question was asked about being depressed. Depression is certainly something I can find myself wallowing in and out of, but I don't stamp myself as clinically depressed. Moreorless it's a feeling I identify with and can name when I'm in a slump. I feel it and know it and usually the best way through it has been to feel it and let is shift. Lately I'm noticing the slumps and they are often tied to self worth. What am I contributing? What am I giving that is worth while? What do I bring to the table?
Ok, yes.
My rational mind I know I bring plenty to the table because I indeed, do know that I am talented and most of the time I consider myself to be pretty good company, but what fills me up? What can I bring to the table that FILLS ME UP? This is what's been so hard on this journey. The host of the podcast, Rachel, answered depression question with multiple answers BUT one struck me today. Sometimes it's depressing when we have no direction.
THAT (insert pointer finger upward emoticon here).
There is a part of me that feels a lack of direction.
Recently I worked on my girls' school gala and while it's volunteer work and time consuming, there was still a sense of accomplishment. I worked hard. I did do a good job. It was for a community that I love. And, I felt I knew the direction. That was a helpful experience; more of that, but with some dollar signs so I can contribute to my family contribute to myself.
I was mentioning to my therapist about perfectionism. She mentioned it's exhausting trying to live up to the bully in our head's standards. IT IS. It truly is. I'm not exactly sure how to toss this bully to the curb, but I really could use some of that energy she's stealing. Perfectionism is like the cousin to Not-Enough-Ness and Control. They are related and usually hang out together. Unfortunately both are assholes, too. So who am I when things aren't perfect? Am I enough when things feel like they are unraveling? Am I enough when things are out of my control?
Well, duh! Of course I know this too. Of course I am enough; enough of all of the things. But, in those moments of being bullied I have to flex with all my might to be stronger than that voice. It's the same voice that sends me into that slump.
Over the last couple months. I've been painting. Not a tapestry (although that would be fun). We have a room in our attic that was nasty old panel and purple carpet. John gifted me new carpet for Christmas and was going to paint the room whatever color I wanted. I chose white. And before he started I told him I wanted to paint it myself. I have never painted a room before or really any painting that didn't involve a canvas, but I wanted to do it.
Start to finish.
I wanted to do it- my way, my time, my rules. He at one point came in to give me tips on the trim and I kindly told him that I want it all white ceiling to floor and I want to do it all my way; rules free. It was supposed to be a week long project, but apparently paneling takes longer to cover with white. I did an hour here and there when I could. I didn't rush. I didn't stress. I did everything on my own time when I felt like painting. I'm proud to say I completed the white room - start to finish - my way, my time, my rules. I simply wanted to do it myself and savor the feeling of my imperfectly perfect job.
And that is it.
Start to finish.
It's one project. But it's mine. And it's my haven where I can do things like this;
peacefully type surrounded by calming white walls haha!
Now on to search for more direction...
What gives you the sense of direction? Do you get off track? What gets you back on?
What are you fearful to start?
Comments