Maybe it was the first time the truancy officers knocked on our door and our parents had to explain what might happen if the "authorities" thought we were missing school (enter threat of lawsuits, legal action, foster care). Maybe it was the seventh time. Maybe it was all that hiding, shades drawn, calls screened, friends never invited overt, the incessant questioning of well meaning relatives. I don't know when, but at some point it became clear to me that my survival and safety became fused with my ability to impress adults with my smarts. Every moment was a performance. See how poised I am? See how well I can converse with adults? See how my education and socialization is in no way being neglected?
It was in this way that I survived.
I performed my way right through the years when my education did in fact begin to suffer. I watched the gap between what I knew and what my friends knew grow and deepen, and along with it my nerves and sense of inadequacy. But I was so good no one noticed. Having become a skilled pretender I took this skill and applied it to other areas of my life, tricking people out of their questions. See how I don't count calories? I don't have an eating disorder. See how I have a crush on some arbitrary boy? I'm not in love with my best friend. Watch me convince you why its okay that I can't leave my house.
No one noticed a thing.
This performance of perfection did keep me and my brother safe, out of foster care, and out of harms way. And to be honest, family in crisis probably would not have handled my eating disorder very well. And conservative christian community is not the nicest place to come out. But isn't this is how it often works; unhealthy patterns develop because they serve us in some way. The trouble comes when they no longer do, when you're left with an unhealthy pattern, deeper and more established then ever.
Coming to terms with my inability to be perfect has been a long practice.
It began with changing my language. I learned the phrase "I'm doing my best and I'm not attached to the outcome." Repeat without ceasing, like a prayer. It worked right away and I'm not exaggerating. A profound stillness entered my body. I found myself able to make mistakes without falling to pieces, and even when those around me didn't exactly support this (a boss falling to pieces, for example, over a mistake) I remained centered. Soon my performance at my job improved; rather than devoting all my energy and brain power to ~*being perfect*~ I just did my job.
"I'm doing my best and I'm not attached to the outcome".
It's a wonderful little mantra that isn't so little.
I'm doing my best and I'm not attached to the outcome.
Its an "easy" enough practice when one makes a mistake. To be truthful, you could just say "Oh I wasn't attached to that anyway" dust yourself off and be done. But as it turns out it's a far more difficult practice when one does well.
Bring us up to the present tense.
My straight A's have put me on the Presidents List for three terms now.
How does one celebrate an accomplishment without attachment? Turns out I hadn't figured it out as well as I thought I had.
It took me awhile to celebrate. It took me awhile to tell anyone.
But soon it became something I treasured in my heart like a gem. For the little girl who cried over math, for the woman who cried over math, now carrying A's in math, this was an important celebration. Tests pinned to the fridge with the best magnets. This was a mile stone.
So when did it become a millstone?
I'd become attached. Old threads were pulled. Survival. Panic.
Twice in a term, a team project went awry. Twice I met with my professor and twice was given second chances. Twice I wasn't perfect. The gem turned to stone in the pit of my stomach. Sleeplessness became the new norm. When I did finally sleep, stress dreams roused me every few minutes. I dreamt I was sending species lists to Seven of Nine on a Data stream that kept overloading. I dreamt that when it did finally reach her, she handed it back curtly; "Insufficient." I failed the presentation because I didn't truly care for the plants in the hydroponics bay (see the theme? I just finished Star Trek Voyager). Neelix shrugged and said, not unkindly, "I guess you just didn't get it."
I had wound myself too tight trying to bend into shapes no one asked me to get into.
I feared the loss of my "A", sure, but I feared being seen as "not perfect" more than anything else.
But there it was, right in my face, over and over; I was not perfect.
And I was angry at being found out.
I even had a twitter meltdown about it.
I hollered well under the 140 character limit that I was "Going for a walk!"
A long, hard walk. Fast with the wind in my face. I met my love in the park when his shift was over. He had been saving nickles and surprised me with tea. The neighborhood team was playing a game* on the diamond and we watched from under the Ash trees. The grass itched our ankles but we didn't even mention it because the sky was so blue.
I came back with some thoughts.
The first: I work hard. Life is short. I've got big things and I've got little things.
The second: Its okay if I get a "less than perfect" grade.
The third: what is perfection but an illusion, and what could possibly be "less than" in a universe of such infinite enough?
The conclusion: Experience, and do so without judgement or praise.
I'm doing my best and I'm not attached to the outcome. Good or Bad. Because what do those words even mean?
What a sentence to end on;-P
[Here's a picture we took in the park. How'd we get so cute?]
-A.H.
* that game was basically baseball with a dodge ball and I can NOT remember the name of it!
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