Things have been rather melancholy here around Melindaville.  I admit—I have been dark and somewhat disconsolate lately.  I’ve had a couple of experiences this summer that shook my faith in people . . . as well as my faith in my own judgment to read people.  Frankly, that’s been difficult for me.  

My natural inclination—inherent in my personality, really—is to trust other people.  I am not suspicious by nature, believing what people tell me.  It’s not the first time my trusting nature has been abused and knowing me, it probably won’t be the last.  However, I do not want to change—I want to be able to believe people—but at the same time, I need to remember when you do trust everyone, at least a few people will let you down. 

When someone lets you down, of course, you lose faith in the person—but you also lose faith in yourself because you were wrong in how you read the person.  I always felt I had a heightened perception of others—I prided myself on my excellent judgment of others and this was initially why I felt that psychology was such a perfect fit for me.   I always felt I could walk into any situation, scan the room, reading each person I met perfectly.  Therefore, when someone betrays my trust, I have no choice but to reevaluate my perception and ask those questions: How can I be so wrong about someone?  Is my judgment that skewed?  How could this person play me—after all, I am trained in psychology. 

Because I should know better, my tendency is to blame myself for being deceived rather blaming the liar for deceiving me.  All of us tend to do this really.  Therefore, I have had to do some soul searching this summer, which has led to personal development and growth—and of course, this is a good thing.  However, growth can be quite painful.  I truly believe we are given the same lessons over again until we finally learn them—and some of life's harshest lessons—the ones in which progress is dependent on, can be some of the toughest to learn. 

In addition, of course,   I have a hard head, which can make learning a bit tougher for me than most people! 

Along with a hard head, inherent rebelliousness, and a stubborn nature, I am also a perfectionist, which can hold me back.  I feel this has happened recently, which has led to a somber mood here in Melindaville.  I am faced with those others who let me down—but I’ve also let myself down—not by any misdeeds or mistakes but by simply being far too hard on myself, which really can be an obstacle to development and growth.  Instead of taking the lesson at hand and learning from it, I tend to dwell on what mistakes I made—which can be a hindrance to growth rather than a aid to it. I constantly battle this inherent trait—my tendency to be too hard on myself, which coupled with perfectionism, can be a tough duo to combat.  I have had these characteristics since childhood, so it has been a lifelong battle.

Perfectionism has definitely been a hindrance in completing my book—speaking of which, I want to give an update!  As I wrote previously on my blog this summer, I did finish the editing of my book—and my perfectionism was in full force during that little venture!  I worked and reworked things until Les finally said, “Give me the manuscript, Melinda!” and that was freeing—to know it was out of my hands because it would never reach that unattainable point of perfection I demanded.  Les is currently reading the book and we are working on edits together.  This is important to me because this book will affect his life—I needed him to be the first one to read it. 

It was hard for me to let go and give the book to Les.  The questions kept running through my mind:  what will he think of my writing?  What will he change how he sees me after reading the extent of my shame during my years of addiction?  There was no reason for me to have these fears, though—Les loves me thoroughly and completely.  Moreover, Les recognizes that I do have this tendency to demand perfection of myself.  In fact, Les always tells me I am far too hard on myself—a part of me still wants to reach that unattainable perfection that my father always demanded—I still want to be that perfect little girl.  This has crippled me at times during my life—and has brought on self-sabotage as well.

When I did not succeed to the extent I felt I should have, I would drop a project altogether.  I feel this was at the root of why I quit the theater.  I worked as hard as any one person could work in pursuit of my acting career—I worked harder than anyone I knew.  When I was teaching myself to tap dance, I danced until my feet literally bled; when I learned to play guitar, I practiced until my fingers were so sore I could barely press them on the strings.  Once, I cracked a small bone in my foot and another time I suffered a miscarriage about 3 hours before the nightly performance while on tour; in both cases, the physician who attended to me told me to stay at home and rest for the night but I took that theatrical adage to heart:  the show must go on!

My friend Kent once told me, “Melinda, this is life, not utopia—you don’t need to be perfect.”  When I feel myself becoming too obsessed with whatever definition of perfection I am momentarily practicing at I remember what Kent used to drill into me.    Les has a saying that also strikes a chord with me:  “perfection is the enemy of completion.” 

Perfection is impossible.  None of us will ever reach perfection—I will never be perfect—but it’s all about progress anyway.  What all of us can do is to try to look at ourselves honestly:   to evaluate our faults and come up with a game plan for self-improvement. 

Progress . . . not perfection.  That, I can handle!

Peace,

Melinda

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