An Unexpected Blessing

Last night we went out for Thai food - delicious fresh Thai food...

we held hands

we ate well

and I of the small bladder

went back as the check came to use their facilities.

It was a strange setup:

four restrooms, two for women, two for men

but I simply saw one door marked women and proceeded to wait

and

wait

and

wait

when out of nowhere, a male patron

approached me and brusquely told me that there was another restroom

and I should use it.

Where did he come from? How long had he been watching my wait?

I closed the door behind me, face aflame

and felt a rolling wave of hormonal grief wash over me:

I had looked like an idiot

as I have so very many times over the course of the last month or so

since the 'fog' seems to have descended.

Women with children laughingly told me that said day would come,

that I would find myself forgetting things,

misplacing things

and not really having the same sharpness that I usually do -

well, I get it now

and honestly

for a woman who struggles so actively with perfectionism,

I think last night was the doorway to a bit more freedom.

I looked in the ladies' room mirror at the restaurant

and saw my shame

right there in red and water:

yes, I looked like an idiot

to someone without empathy or warmth

but why am I so scared to death of the world?

Why is the first assumption one that renders me unsafe, unloved?

Is it really so bad to make mistakes? To mess up or miss details?

I've worn so many hats running my business

and caring for our home

that I've had to write pretty much everything down since about week 19

just to make sure I am aware of things, reminded of events to come.

I am exhausted from trying to keep up the ruse that I have my shit together at all times

and here in paradise of all places,

I hit a huge stop sign

and had to surrender.

I cannot say that I feel settled on this matter,

that I felt the mantle lift and the wonder of it all come in

but

I can say that having such a strong aching response to

such a simple gesture of help (harsh though it seemed to my tired self at the time)

has really opened my eyes

to the issues underlying the wish to be just right in all ways:

it's not possible, especially not right now

and perhaps beyond pregnancy

and motherhood

not ever -

perhaps it never was

and through its myth we perfectionists all

plan on getting the highest score

on the test of life

for....what?

Glory?

Blissful invisibility?

A Painless existence?

God's approval?

I hope in distancing myself from the crush of that pressure

to find an answer or two

and a lot of peace.

What do you do in the face of self-criticism or perfection?

I am eager for your insights.

Love,

Allison