Perfection and Perversion

I have a confession.  A confession of all confessions for it boldly stands in contradiction to what I thought my belief system was.  I’ve come to a place in life where I win the majority of battles against that which I must declare, but sometimes, on days like today where the victor seems unsure, I sneak upstairs alone to the refuge of my chair.  It is here, in my seat of surrender, where I allow my neurosis to seep out.  And as I sit and ponder, my thoughts gently slide under awareness into the dark seduction of an unquestioned mind.  This is dangerous territory to walk alone, and most certainly not to be explored unarmed.  

On the terrain of limiting thoughts, anxiety begins to rise as I curse the truth and vanity of it: I’m not perfect.  I’m not perfect, life isn’t easy, I’m not living up to my potential, I’m too intense, too different, I really won’t fulfill my dreams, but mostly I’m just upset that I can’t get things just right.  And that most certainly means I’m unlovable. 

I know, I know. Trust me. I know what you are thinking.  “Well, that is stupid.  Who the hell is?  Do ‘The Work’!  There is no such thing as perfect.  What does that even mean?  Get over yourself, girl.  Pull up your boots, slap yourself in the ass, and keep marching forward.”  

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are my thoughts too, on a good day.  On a bad day I feel unlovable, disgusting, and perverted.  Don’t ask me why imperfection means perversion in my mind, but on days like today, it does.  The shocking truth is that I’m not upset about the realization that I’m imperfect, that has been blatantly obvious to all for quite a while… I’m pissed that somewhere deep down I believe I ought to be.  Gross.

So, instead of challenging my thoughts, I wallowed in it.  I didn’t take the higher road.  I ate dark chocolate from Godiva, a variety of mystery selections from my beloved Indian joint and had a play date with my good friend Chip and his gal, Salsa.  I indulged in white wine and totally blew off yoga to veg on the couch with The Wall.  I gave the finger to my yoga challenge and chalked it up to no one cares anyway.

That was yesterday.  Today, that no one who cares is me.  I care.  I care that I believed those things about myself and I care that I set myself up for failure.  I thought the thoughts that sabotage, and I chose to believe them.  I ate things that were not a part of my challenge, I chose things that didn’t make me feel good, I didn’t show up to yoga, and I told myself no one cares.  For all of the negative beliefs that were running around in my mind I found past evidence to prove them all true.  Once I found the proof that I really am imperfect and unlovable I drove the point home by demonstrating the behavior again.

But here is the thing.  That was yesterday and I have the tools.  I know what to do.  So, this time I’m continuing the challenge in its blemished perfection.  My two day excursion from the guidelines has NOT turned into a week long bender.  Or even worse, I haven’t thrown my hands up completely.  For me, this is a huge step forward.  I’m taking down the poles that pitch my pity party tent by finding proof that I can, proof where I am strong, evidence to show that I am capable of consistency and flexibility.  This challenge is about completing something to the best of my ability and sometimes the best that I have to offer comes with mistakes along the way.  But, I am learning from them, I am evolving my relationship with myself, and I am fully living this experience.  Now, that is perfection I can stand up for.