The Disease Called "Perfection"

Quite some time ago, I read a post on a blog I frequent entitled The Disease Called "Perfection" (this link is to an updated version of the original post).

I cried.

I just read the updated post, and guess what?

I cried.

Now, people who are close to me know that I cry pretty easily. As in, at the drop of a hat. I always have. But this particular post hit incredibly close to home. Why? Because, like so many people, I suffer from this "disease". I fight it, and I fight it hard. But still this disease haunts me.

I think the idea of perfection is especially prevalent in Mormon culture. We're taught from an early age that we're commanded to be perfect, although we know we won't attain that in this life. But the striving is there. And striving to be perfect isn't necessarily a bad thing. But the need to appear perfect is dangerous.

How often do I take on more than I can really handle, because I want to appear a certain way? To appear to be the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect student, the perfect....whatever.

How often do I say what is expected of me but don't really mean it, because I want to appear kind and sweet and agreeable?

How often am I disingenuous because I want to appear "perfect"? How often do I pretend that I'm happy with my body the way it is, because admitting I have a lot of weight to lose would be admitting imperfection?

How often do I pretend everything is fine, when in reality I can feel my depression creeping back up on me, because to admit weakness would be to admit imperfection?

Fortunately, the answers to these questions are: far less often than I used to. I have fought long and hard to be ME. Just me. Not a perfect (fake) version of me. The real me, complete with my insecurities, foibles, flaws, weaknesses.

I am not perfect.

I lose my temper with my kids and my husband. I slack off as a friend, as a sister, as a daughter. I hate my body, not because of my scars, but because of my weight. I feel fat and ugly, and I am terrified to make the changes I know I need to. I feel inadequate as a wife and mother. I feel like I should be doing more, I should BE more.

But I'm not. This is who I am. Yes, I keep striving for that unattainable perfection. But I don't obsess over it, and I try really hard not to present a facade to others.

Do you suffer from this "disease"? How does the pressure to appear perfect affect your life?

Quick Update

There's so much going on these days, so, a quick update:

• School is going great--lots of reading and papers to write, but I'm doing really well and enjoying it. And I'm not horribly stressed out, either!
• We went to Ohio to visit Brett's parents over President's Day. It was low-key, but we really enjoy spending time with them. Now they're visiting us!
• We went to the Burns Recovered Support Group bowling party today. It was fun to see everyone. I always enjoy these get-togethers, because I know so many great people from camp and don't get to see them often.
• I started a new blog! I've been wanting to post about some of the "hippy" stuff I'm into these days, but thought this wasn't the best place for that. Thus, a new blog was born! http://becomingacrunchymama.blogspot.com 

So, keeping very busy here! Here are some recent pictures of the tiny people. Enjoy!

David playing at the park on a remarkably warm day:

A couple of shots of Amy & David watching the Blues practice. Let's go Blues!

Pirate Captain Amy at the grocery store:

Pirate Captain David:

Beauty is...

I've been involved with Burns Recovered Support Group for quite a few years now. I've had some really incredibly opportunities to volunteer with this group and to be involved with various projects.

Recently I had the opportunity to be part of a photo shoot featuring burn survivors. These photos, beautifully taken, show our beauty in spite of, and because of, our burn injuries. I feel so blessed to have the privilege of being part of this incredible project. There were over 30 models, including myself and my younger sister. These photos will be put together in a book along with some information about each person and will be available for purchase. Stay tuned for information about the book, as well as a fabulous kick-off party to come!

Sneak peek of my pictures, one of which will be featured in the book:

Super Bowl Fun!

I am the first to admit that I'm really not that into football. It takes too long. You get 10, maybe 20 seconds of action, and then a couple of minutes of nothing while everyone lines back up, repeat ad nauseum. So, not my favorite.

But, I LOVE a good excuse to have a party! I just adore spending time with friends over some incredibly yummy food. Who wouldn't?!

This year, Brett and the kids and I went down to our friends, Liz & Dustin's new house. (Which, by the way, is incredible.) I made buffalo chicken dip and attempted a version of crab rangoon (with mixed results), and also took down some Lofthouse cookies. Liz made a cheeseball, 7-layer dip (which I think of as her trademark, because she always does an amazing job), and little Smokies. We all ate ourselves silly while the menfolk watched the game and Liz and I "watched" the game. (Read: caught up on girl-talk.)

At one point, David apparently managed to snag one of the kids' plates from the table, and was face-first in it. I guess my son is also a fan of Little Smokies!

But really, with that face, who could get upset? He was so proud of himself. It was seriously cute, and no real damage was done to clothes or floor.

Ooooooh, I'm so "artsy"!

Okay, maybe not.

BUT...I DID make a new banner for the blog! It's the first time I've even attempted to do something vaguely artsy on the computer, so I'm pretty proud of myself!

Granted, I kept the same look from the one Heather made me, but I just love the way it looks. And, I'm really bad at picking color combinations. So, it works.

Voila!

Dear Jackie

I don't hate you. I don't think you're a terrible person. I bear you no ill will at all. I'm not angry with you.

I forgive you.

I forgive you for not being a better parent. I forgive you for your involvement, whether it was direct or indirect, in the abuse that I endured. I forgive you for making mistakes. I forgive you for not protecting me as you should have.

I used to hate you. I used to be so angry with you. I have wished and hoped so often that a special level of hell was reserved for you and people like you, who either harm their children or allow them to be harmed by others. I used to hope some horrible tragedy would befall you, because in my mind, it would have served you right. I thought horrible things.

I was wrong to do so. I hope you can forgive me for that.

But forgiving doesn't mean forgetting. Forgiving doesn't mean I want you back in my life. I don't. I have a mom, and you are not her. I have sisters, and your children are not them. I have a family, and you are not part of it. I don't say that to be mean. It is what it is.

You are not part of my life, nor do I want you to be. As I have stated to 2 of your children, I do not want contact with you or your family. Not because I hate you, because I don't. But because when it comes right down to it, I have no feelings towards you. I don't know you. And I don't owe you anything. In many ways, I feel sorry for you. You missed out. You missed out on being a part of my life. You'll never get that back.

I know you read my blog, as you've commented on several posts over the past year or so. Please stop. No contact with you means no contact, including responses on my blog. I hope you respect me enough as a person to abide by my wishes.

Ah, at last...hockey season!

I wasn't always a hockey fan. We didn't watch it growing up, and I always had the (correct) impression that it's an incredibly violent sport. But, when I was considering marrying Brett, I was introduced to hockey and the passion for it that exists in his family (mainly, Brett and Barbara, my mother-in-law). I have a hunch that I was undergoing some sort of test to see if I could hack being married to an obsessive hockey fan. We watched the playoffs that year at Brett's parents' house. The only team I recognized in the playoffs were the Ducks, thanks to the Mighty Ducks movies, so I decided to cheer for them. As it happened, they actually won the Stanley Cup that year, so it was a good introduction to the sport!

I quickly became a fan of the sport, owing mostly to the fast pace of the game. I LOVE how fast hockey is. The movement is constant and fluid. There are a couple of breaks here and there, but it's not the constant stop-and-go pace of football or baseball. There is always something happening. Things can change in a matter of seconds (or sometimes tenths of a second). It's fascinating! And you have to admire guys who can be on the ice for that long, skating, taking and delivering hits, occasionally fighting, and sprinting up and down the ice after pucks. Really. It's impressive.

Long story short, I'm nearly as obsessive as Brett is these days, with a pretty thorough knowledge of the rules and intricacies of the sport. I was pretty hacked off when the lockout happened, yes, I despise Gary Bettman like any good hockey fan, and I'm so glad they're finally playing again!

Brett sent a link to me today to a story about a "guide" put up on the New York Rangers' website. "A Girl's Guide to Watching the Rangers" was full of really obnoxious, patronizing remarks, including referring to female hocky fans as "Puck Bunnies" and using language that was patronizing at best. I automatically am irritated when I feel like I'm being talked to (or written to) like I'm stupid.

I pointed out to Brett that I, a woman (gasp), know just as much about the sport as the majority of male fans do, possibly barring the really obsessed ones like himself. We then proceeded to have a hockey-centric conversation including names of various players, injuries and recovery periods, and the comments I make during games we watch.

I'm embracing it. I'm a hockey fan. (And hockey fans aren't like other fans.)