I bet Audrey had bad days too 2

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In striving for perfectionism

7:43 AM


I’m not a perfectionist. About most things, actually. I don’t measure a lot of the time when I cook, (even though I really don’t know what’s going on) I’ve already stopped apologizing when my apartment isn’t clean when people come over, even sans kids, and I was almost always cool with getting a “B” in school.

Here I am in Hawaii. And I love it here. I’m not going to pretend I don’t. The thing about living here, is you get to learn a lot. I don’t know why. It’s like taking an accelerated course on life lessons.

Sometimes, maybe especially while living here and being married, I feel like I was given a magnifying glass just to help me see all my problems. Not because Gun points out my flaws. On the contrary. But when I got married, I saw that some of my personality quirks — my inability to often go with the flow, shutting down at the slightest hint of hunger or fatigue and my need for alone time from literally everyone but Gunnar — all turned out to not so much be personality quirks, as real challenges that can make two people’s lives harder.

When Gun shuts down, it’s like a quiet computer just whiring itself to sleep, silently and almost without notice until you look over and see it is indeed, fast asleep. All kind of out of the blue.

When I shut down, it’s like a computer overheating and then a “PEW!” sound, and then a crash sound, with little keys spouting off each and every direction, until finally after the explosion all that is left is the faintest hint of a computer with tiny flames coming from the bottom, while producing this quiet “hissss.” Absolutely broken, at least for a time; probably until the husband looks up on YouTube how to fix it, if not salvaged by a mother, a sister, a friend or simply a prayer.

That probably made me sound like I have some insane rage problem. I don’t. All I mean is that when Gunnar is done with life for the moment, he simply falls asleep, while I have a very small but very real nervous breakdown. Gunnar’s coping is probably more ideal, although mine is much more theatrical and it makes us laugh more later. Sometimes even in the moment.

Oh, what I would give to be perfect. Now. And I know how ridiculous it sounds. But isn’t it often how we feel? Don’t we neglect to pat ourselves on the back when we do something outstanding in one area, because we failed at something else? Is that how it should be? I’m asking. Because I don’t know. I don’t know if I should waste my time celebrating my small victories, when I have so much I need to work on. I know we all do, and blah blah blah, but I have soooo much I need to work on.

What I’m truly saying, is I’m not perfect. (I know, you're shocked.) And quite honestly, I’m not OK with it. We read these things all the time about people being so happy with their imperfections. That sounds nice. That’s not how I feel. I can’t stand my imperfections. I detest that I’ll often say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Hate that I’ll sometimes, maybe even frequently, offend someone, because in that small moment I forgot what it was like to have manners, or at least thought what I had to say was funny. I wish I was more hospitable, giving, loving and acted more like an adult than a six-year-old. I wish it all the time. Quite honestly, I probably waste my time wishing instead of doing. Add that to the list.

I don’t write this for pity or for others to tell me how great I am. I know I’m great. Gunnar and my mom tell me plenty. And I know I have good qualities too — like, I know there’s a 90 percent chance I can gleek better than you — and heaven knows, I have come a long way. But in case you’ve felt this way, this longing for being “on it” all the time, for reacting appropriately even in the hardest moments, for functioning on photosynthesis, I want you to know: Me too.

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