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The Perfection Monster.

August 21, 2006 by Elizabeth Potts Weinstein 

My name is Elizabeth, and I am a perfectionist.

Funny, because my house is cluttered, and right now my living room floor is covered in cracker crumbs, and the sink is full. I have a ton of ideas for my business that are not yet started, and dozens of unfinished projects around the house. So, I don’t look like one of those perfect-everything-in-its-place chicks.

But, that is not the definition, is it? The definition is by what standard do I judge myself (and other people, for that matter). Not by okay, or good enough, or a good job, or nice try. But, by give-it-1000%, best quality, everything to everyone, never-a-break, perfection.

I intellectually know that I need to spend time on myself, so I do that. I understand that 93% is usually seen as great by everyone, and the last 7% is not worth it — but I secretly feel like a tiny bit of a failure for not giving it the last 7%. I have learned that I cannot do everything, it is okay to say “no” and delegate — but I feel like a looser for ever asking for help — and, that no one else could ever do as good of a job as I would (what an egomanic!).

For example, there are multiple piles of DVDs and random items piled precariously upon the top of the TV cabinet. They have been there for months, when Gracie decided to open the drawers, remove all the DVDs, and use them as frisbies and coasters. Could I have delegated organizing these items to my husband, or nanny, or hired an organizer? Of course. But, no, I plan do it myself — which means that in the last few months it has not been done — and occasionally, a DVD box will topple off the side, almost taking out the cat. Why do I care about how it is done? Why not just do it now, or assign it out?

I am working on my perfectionism (isn’t admitting the problem the first step?) — now that I have Gracie, I really don’t want to give her a complex. Any more that I already will be, anyway.

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