Hi, I'm Nina, and I'm a Perfectionist

Part of "the magic that is me" is that I'm a recovering perfectionist. You'd never know it from the clutter in my room and my apartment...perhaps that's the "recovering" part. :)

This week my perfectionism reared its head in two ways. The first was with the blog. After I posted the first post, I kept reading it, and editing it, and changing it. The curse of having worked for a magazine? Maybe. I also think I didn't want something "out there" of mine to be not written well. And that's OK, to a point. But somewhere along the way -- on the tenth reading perhaps? -- I realized I was obsessing and needed to LET IT GO. So I did. But watching myself go over everything with a fine-tooth comb over and over again made me realize that I'm not as far along in my recovery as I'd like. Praying for progress. Maybe I'll only read this one five times.

The other scenario where perfectionism rose up was about a gathering I'm having today for a friend who's visiting from another state. She's one of my closest friends, who has been a rock for me during the past *very* turbulent nine months (more on that along the way, I'm sure), and I really wanted to put together something special for her. I had envisioned trays of assorted tea sandwiches, scones, tarts, a big cake, etc...a veritable plethora (I LOVE that phrase) of homemade "high tea" goodies. I was going to decorate the party room with lots of flowers and balloons. My inner Martha Stewart was coming out and I was looking forward to this opportunity to shine as a hostess, as that is also part of who I am (and I must credit my mother for that!). I love to cook, to entertain, to gather people and watch everyone eat and have fun. And I haven't hostessed a gathering in a looong time.

I'd like to know who first said, "Life is what happens while you're making other plans" because life most certainly happened. I can hardly stand or walk...something is wrong with my right hip/leg/knee/ankle, perhaps all rooted in a pinched nerve in my lower back; I won't know until I see a chiropractor on Tuesday. The point is that the plans of standing in my kitchen for hours, cooking and preparing a lavish afternoon tea, had to go flying out the window. I couldn't even do the grocery shopping for the party (I thank my sweet spouse for doing that!). Platters from Subway and lots of yummy goodies from Trader Joe's will have to suffice. Now I *know* this is no big deal. At least my left brain knows this. My right brain, the emotional side of me, was sad and mad at my body, and felt really disappointed that I couldn't do the thing I wanted to do to bless my friend. And I started obsessing again, trying to think of ways I could maybe make a couple of things. Then I stood up and tried to walk to my cookbook shelf and reality set in.

So I decided to listen to my friend instead of the tapes in my head. She is blessed to be here. She is blessed to have a gathering at all. While homemade food would have been lovely, she cares more about my health than that, and the party is about friends, not food. She knows I can cook, I don't have to prove that to her or anyone else. Ah yes...see there it is again...PRIDE. Mixed in with the healthy enjoyment of doing what I love to do is also pride that says it has to be done that way or it's somehow "less than." I just felt God's gentle, padded 2x4 whack me upside the head.

So...this blog won't be perfect, the party won't be perfect...LIFE will NEVER be perfect. I'm OK with that. Really.

Well, mostly.

I'm still in recovery.