I don’t mind if it isn’t perfect, perfect isn’t who I am.  This was said to me by one of my friends and it is the second reference to perfection in the last two weeks.  I know I spent a lot of my life looking to be perfect, to get the attention for being perfect, some acknowledgement that I was the best at something, that I was worthy of something.  That people saw and acknowledged that I was good, period.  But I’ve given that up to a degree and really all I’m looking for in life is to get myself organized, to get to a point where I know where everything is in my home, that I know where I want to go in life.  Having a direction and a purpose isn’t about perfection, it’s about cutting away what doesn’t serve that goal.  I’ve never been really good at managing my focus and knowing how to help people/when to help them.  But I know that I’ve crowded my life with so much stuff and so much emotional clutter that I can’t do anyone a damn bit of good anymore. 

My goal isn’t about being perfect either, it’s about being perfectly me.  It’s taking all of my talents and honing them to share with the world, to share my gifts, to help people be who they want to be.  I can’t be perfectly me if all I do is spend my time doing what other people want of me for the sake of being liked.  People change their opinions all the time so even those closest to me can decide they don’t want to be around me any longer.  All I have is the ability to focus on my dreams and taking accountability for them.  No one else will do the work on my dreams. My time is tight, I don’t have the luxury of working from home every day, having no commute, having someone else do my laundry, having someone clean and cook for me, having someone go out of their way to use their creativity on me.  This isn’t to cry victim, it’s to point out that setting boundaries with people we love can be tricky.  It’s easy for people to find who they want to be when they have the time to focus on who they want to be.  They can develop clarity when other people are doing the day to day work for them so they can focus on their personal stuff.

I’m not perfect, nor am I trying to be.  The misconception that that is my goal tears me apart and makes me angry.  Me trying to take control of my outer world as an attempt to regain my sanity isn’t being perfect, it’s organizing my life in a way that works for me, to keep my systems going.  I can’t thrive in mess.  I can’t thrive with only a narrow walk way through my house.  I can’t thrive with a narrow walk way in my mind either so it’s time to clear all the clutter.  If the outside is a physical representation of what needs to be cleared on the inside, then yes, I have work to do and I can’t delay it any longer.  I release the guilt of not meeting their expectations because there will be a point when these people aren’t around and I won’t know how to properly care for myself.  It’s getting my sea legs under control now so I can learn to steer my ship.  I’m not trying to control the weather, I’m trying to learn how to navigate.  If people can’t accept that, then they weren’t meant to be on my ship.  I’m done allowing others to steer for me.  I have a voice and I do know what I want.  Let them think what they will: I still have to move forward, with imperfect but perfectly certain steps.   I may stumble, but I will dance.  Perfectly to my own rhythm.