Enough.

I’m a recovering perfectionist. I had/have my reasons for perfectionism. Its how I survived the chaotic and painful times in my life. "I cannot control them - but I sure as hell can control me. And I will do it perfectly. I will be so good that life will have to get better."

As a kid that presented in behavior. Grades, looks, performing and religion. These were ways I could feel in control and like I was somehow digging myself out of this horrible pit. I lived in 5 different homes with 5 different families. It wasn't the easiest situation for a kid. Scratch that - it was really really hard and really really painful. But with my little shovel of perfectionism I was going to dig myself out. 

Truth be told I was just getting deeper and deeper in the hole. It was like I picked up the unhealthy shovel my parents had bequeathed me and was carrying on their legacy. I was getting deeper and deeper in the hole. Further and further from the truth. 

I was working on the assumption that my worth was to be earned. That I was supposed to "hustle for my worth." 

Recovery began when I discovered - as if someone had finally turned on the lights - that my worth was not connected to any thing external. Accomplishment and hustling and performance and pleasing every gosh damn person on this Earth had absolutely NOTHING to do with my worth...my value. 

For years I would repeat the mantra...

"I'm valuable because I exist." "I am valuable because God created me."

Until I finally started to believe it.

Accomplishment and Hustling and Performance are fine if they make me happy or I enjoy them...but they won't prevent me pain or give me security or most importantly -They don't prove to anyone or myself or God that I am worth anything.

I have been feeling the weight and anxiety that go hand in hand with perfectionism lately. Maybe its the stress of Christmas time or that fact that I have completely reorganized my life in the last 3 months - sleep, work, time, self care...its all changed. But regardless of the why - it’s catching up to me. 


The committee has been loud lately. The committee is a term I use in therapy to describe that internal group of voices we all have that criticize, scare, or hold us back. Sometimes its the voices of people we know - coaches or friends or parents - and sometimes its just a team of harsh voices waiting to judge us (I imagine celebrities might hear the voices of US weekly and fashion critics...)



  The voices are telling me that I am wasting time, not accomplishing enough, what I am doing isn't good enough or doesn't really matter. 

In religious life, there is a teaching about not worshiping false idols, having no other "Gods" above the actual Father of us all. 

My false God of late is wrapped up in the idea of accomplishment. Somehow, if I can finish that check list (in the best and most efficient way - of course) then I will be ok - I will matter and be good. Cooking and cleaning and teaching my kids and loving Charlotte to perfection and being the best counselor/therapist/life coach/ healer on the Earth and losing that baby weight and do something important for the world and master French cooking (I’m not even kidding...I watched Julie and Julia the other day and that thought actually popped into my mind, "I think I should cook all 500 of Julia Child's recipes this year.”) and be a really tuned in- checked in friend, and give thoughtful and researched and gorgeously wrapped presents....

And even as I am writing this - the committee is saying, " You should be a better writer. If only you could write like _______________."

And it’s weighing me down. And creating what the committee always creates for me in my body - anxiety, indecisiveness, confusion and unbearable STRESS and PRESSURE. 

So. I am putting the shovel down.  No more digging. My young women’s lessons and Christmas gifts and house and body and baking and home making and career and EVERYTHING are just goanna have to be good enough. Everything is just goanna have to be good enough.

Because the truth is:

I am enough.

I am enough with or without a plate of perfect Christmas treats.

I am enough in a messy house.

I am enough in any size jeans

I am enough as a mother.

And for hell’s sake – I am enough if I don’t ever cook one of Julia Child’s recipes (although truth be told I do really want to make that Beef Bourguion )

And if any of you are feeling the (holiday, motherhood, life) pressure…you are enough too. You always have been and always will be.