An Ephipany

I have been in counseling now for eight months. I am on my second counselor even though it was not because of me that my first counselor left the practice. Although, it was hard not to think I was the reason after I was told she was leaving because her daughter was sick and a few weeks later I saw her and her healthy looking daughter at a school play. I try to tell myself that I do not have issues.

It's really not all about me.

My current counselor told me at my last session that I have control/perfectionism issues. I was a bit taken back since I have not really thought about myself that way before she said it to me. I have always thought of my older sister as the controlling/perfectionist one. I fancied myself as the easy going on, not wanting to make waves and avoiding confrontation at all costs. I am normally the people pleaser.

Controlling?

A perfectionist?

After she said it, I thought back to when I taught 2nd grade. I always had a parent come in to teach art because I couldn't handle teaching it. I would look at the project in the book and the ones my students duplicated on their desks and get all twitchy when theirs was not an exact replica of the example in the book. It was better for everyone if I was not teaching art.

And then I started thinking of my older children and their science projects and the display boards that I "helped" them with for the fair. I cut out the letters, laid out the format and I remember taking the glue from my son and offering to "just finish it for him". Poor boy. They both won ribbons that year. Dear God, please let those ribbons not have been for their displays alone.

I have been redoing beds that they have made, dishwashers they have loaded, projects they have done for years. No wonder all of my adult children have been in therapy.

Thankfully, for my youngest two I have changed a lot. I have let them decorate their own display boards for school and even some of the art work for their rooms. I do not nag them about their choice of clothes unless it is something outlandish or inappropriate for church. I only go behind them when they clean or do chores if they ask me for my help. Then I offer my opinion about how I would do it without redoing it for them or offering to do it for them.

So, imagine my surprise when my husband was sharing a recipe with a lady at our church picnic today. She was saying that he would have to write it down because there was no way she would remember it and she needed the recipe because there was no way she could veer from the it. My husband laughed understandingly saying my wife is the same way. She then said if I don't follow it the same way every time it may not taste as good as the first time and I can't risk that and even though I was laughing, I was cringing. She sounded so rigid and a bit crazy. But, it didn't hit me until my husband and I were talking about it on the way home that that must be how I sound and I realized that that is crazy.

Controlling.

Like a perfectionist.

Recipes do have some ingredients that are necessary for a flavorable outcome, but they are to be guidelines in most respects and some of my husband's most delicious creations have come from tweaking a recipe. Even though, I am not one to toss a recipe aside and create a meal from memory, I have learned that adding something or changing something can be for the better.

I have always been known for my French toast. People request it when I stay at their houses overnight. I have always been proud of my French toast. In our early years of marriage I did most of the cooking, trying to find significance in my domestic duties since I went from being a school teacher to a stay at home mom. On one occasion, my husband sat down to a plate of French toast and proceeded to put peanut butter on it. I was aghast and horrified. My exact words were, "I can not believe you would desecrate my French toast like that". I was completely indignant.

When my husband and I talked today, he said, "You altered something I made the other day. What was it?" "Your egg McMuffin sandwich. I added a tomato." "So, it wasn't good enough for you the way it was?" he joked. And that's when it hit me.

Controlling.

Like a perfectionist.

Who cares if you put peanut butter or whatever you want on whatever I make. I should have been happy that my family was eating around a table in the home I was keeping. But, I wasn't.

It's really not all about me.

So, even though I was a bit shocked when my counselor mentioned that I may have control/perfectionism issues, I am now beginning to see that she was right.

Thankfully, recognition of your problem is the first step in recovery.





                

40

I am not sure I ever felt like 40 was old before I turned 40, but now that I have reached that milestone, I felt old, it sounds old to say I am 40 and yet I still have more than half my life to live.

I didn't think I had any expectations for my 40th birthday and we had a wonderful day in NYC with the youngest two kiddos, but since my husband surprised me with a party on my 30th I think I was expecting a surprise of some sort on my 40th birthday, which is sort of silly, but true. I knew we would be in NYC and I know that we are not in a position to afford such a party, but I had originally wanted to get away for a few days with my three best friends and my sisters at the beach, but could not work out the details. I truly envy women that have yearly weekends away with their sisters or friends. I have always wanted to do that and yet have never had a group of close friends like that or been able to get my sisters to be able to get away for a weekend, due to circumstance or finances.

I told myself that I would plan more dinners and girls' nights out with friends and my sisters and cousins, but I haven't followed through with it. I suppose I could recommit to doing it and start with a coffee date with a friend tomorrow night.

I want my 40s to exceed my 30s and anything would be better than my 20s, so I guess I will just have to take the initiative and make 40 fabulous for myself.