I'm an isolated person. Not necessarily because I want to be, but because its what life has given me. However, with all the ongoing house construction, my 'space' has been invaded with strangers.
My house is not perfect. I am not perfect. Because of the nature of caring for the kids(some of you know two of them have special needs, and the other is a toddler), I can't attend to things like everyone else does. Ares runs outside after dinner? I have to deal with that. By the time I've caught up with him, I may be too pooped to clean up and save it for the morning. Our house is far from a disaster area, but its not in perfect order, and until Ares gets older, it probably won't be.
Having all these strangers in the house has made me self conscious. People that know us know the situation. They don't judge. But when people who don't know come in, I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I can't do everything perfectly all the time. Ashamed that I only have so much energy before I crash and burn. Ashamed that I can't just snap my fingers and have the kids do this or that, and that things appear so chaotic.
I think perfection was drilled into me young. Because I did well in school, good grades were expected. Not appreciated, or praised, just expected. When I got an A, I got 2 dollars. My sister got 50. "Well, its easy for you!" my parents would say as an excuse. Any talents I had were kinda taken for granted. "Its just what George does." Even now, with friends, when I am struggling and I need help, I hear "You'll be fine. You're always fine!" To an extent, its true. I gripe and pull my hair for a minute or two, then I get over it. But this expectation of perfection so many hold for me has driven me to a point of self loathing that I've never really seemed to be able to get rid of. I'm far from being a perfectionist, but the cries of all the things I didn't do right through the years still stick in the back of my mind. It might be a layover from the abuse I suffered in early adulthood, or it might be from lack of support from childhood, but where ever it came from, there it is.
Logically, I know my situation. I know what I can handle in one day alone others couldn't tolerate in a week, I understand logically I'm not a bad person. But what the head knows and the heart knows don't always match up.
How do you handle your failings? Do you struggle with perfectionism or not living up to expectations? If so, how do you deal with it?
My house is not perfect. I am not perfect. Because of the nature of caring for the kids(some of you know two of them have special needs, and the other is a toddler), I can't attend to things like everyone else does. Ares runs outside after dinner? I have to deal with that. By the time I've caught up with him, I may be too pooped to clean up and save it for the morning. Our house is far from a disaster area, but its not in perfect order, and until Ares gets older, it probably won't be.
Having all these strangers in the house has made me self conscious. People that know us know the situation. They don't judge. But when people who don't know come in, I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I can't do everything perfectly all the time. Ashamed that I only have so much energy before I crash and burn. Ashamed that I can't just snap my fingers and have the kids do this or that, and that things appear so chaotic.
I think perfection was drilled into me young. Because I did well in school, good grades were expected. Not appreciated, or praised, just expected. When I got an A, I got 2 dollars. My sister got 50. "Well, its easy for you!" my parents would say as an excuse. Any talents I had were kinda taken for granted. "Its just what George does." Even now, with friends, when I am struggling and I need help, I hear "You'll be fine. You're always fine!" To an extent, its true. I gripe and pull my hair for a minute or two, then I get over it. But this expectation of perfection so many hold for me has driven me to a point of self loathing that I've never really seemed to be able to get rid of. I'm far from being a perfectionist, but the cries of all the things I didn't do right through the years still stick in the back of my mind. It might be a layover from the abuse I suffered in early adulthood, or it might be from lack of support from childhood, but where ever it came from, there it is.
Logically, I know my situation. I know what I can handle in one day alone others couldn't tolerate in a week, I understand logically I'm not a bad person. But what the head knows and the heart knows don't always match up.
How do you handle your failings? Do you struggle with perfectionism or not living up to expectations? If so, how do you deal with it?