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Thursday, February 13, 2020

Exact : Write 28 Days



I'm a perfectionist, so I have a love/hate relationship with words like exact

I want to be exact in everything I do. A not very realistic goal, I understand, but there it is.

Perfectionism is not a quest for the best. It is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough - that we should try again. -- Julia Cameron, The Artist's Way.

The idea that everything doesn't have to be exact - perfect - is difficult for me to get my head around. I spent the last 30+ years trying to do just that. It doesn't work - I know this - but I kept striving for it anyway, while it hammered at my self-worth and made me deflect every compliment that came my way.

So I'm working on changing my attitude again. Years ago I claimed the term "procrastinating perfectionist" to describe my inertia. I would find myself frozen, unable to move in any direction for fear of failing, even if only in one tiny aspect of the task. I recognize the abuse imbued me with an intense fear of failure, as I believed I was responsible for it. I just never knew what I had done to make it happen. That sense of responsibility left me terrified of making a mistake whether I knew what the mistake was or not. You can't win if you try to take on responsibility for something that's not yours.

Today I met with an accountant to help me with my taxes. I'm still new to all of this, so I'm getting help to be sure I pay the right amount. I gathered all the papers I could think of and put them in my cute, pink plastic envelope. I dressed nicely and arrived on time. I couldn't find parking so I called to ask where I could park. That may not sound like much, but it's hard for me. For some reason, I believe I'm supposed to know everything all the time, so asking questions is tantamount to admitting I'm an idiot. Once I got to the office and we began to look through paperwork, it became patently obvious that I had forgotten numerous important documents - like last year's tax forms.

Internally, I quickly spiraled into self- doubt, beating myself up for not bringing those documents. I feel confident that the accountant had no idea how stressed I was. I made a note of items he needed from me and we agreed on how I would get them to him, and when. 

There was no external evidence or my anxiety, except speed talking and over-explaining. Maybe a few unnecessary "I'm sorries." Otherwise, I left with a plan. But it took me a while to talk myself down. A call to my best friend helped me put some things in perspective, along with a promise to help me get organized for next time. 

That's a lot of information to explain my love/hate relationship with exact, but now you know I have a tendency to over-explain when I'm stressed.

1 comment:

  1. I hear ya. We put so much on ourselves that we overwhelm and worry and stress ad nauseum. But cheers to you for 1. the explanation and 2. the plan of execution. You got this! :)

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